


The Queen Who Reigns

by GoldenDaydreams



Series: United, We Stand [4]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Raphael Santiago, BAMF Alec Lightwood, Battle Couple, Book Canon Character Death, Brotp, Clalec BroTP - Freeform, Clary Fray & Alec Lightwood Friendship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fluffy Moments, Hurt/Comfort, Luke Is Squad Dad, M/M, Malec, Multi, Original Character(s), Parabatai, Parabatai Bond, Parent-Child Relationship, Possible Spoilers, Protective Everyone, Protective Siblings, Seelie Magic, Torture, Vampire Simon, Whump, non-canon Seelie Court, squad goals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-09 15:53:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 96,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7807999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenDaydreams/pseuds/GoldenDaydreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Old magic resurrects an ally. An important artifact is lost after an intense battle. A Clave official takes over the Institute. If all that isn't enough, the Seelie Court falls into Civil War, it causes hostility felt through the entire Shadow World. One Queen offers freedom from the rules of the Clave; another promises an alliance with the Shadowhunters. One wrong move, and the Seelie Court might end up Valentine's puppets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Alec snagged an apple from the kitchen on his way through the Institute. The battle had taken a toll on the Shadowhunters. Everyone had their role to play, and at a time like this, it was even more crucial to play the part. There were a few dead, and many injured. They’d gotten both Jace and the Cup back, but failed to capture or kill Valentine. And Jace- related to the Inquisitor, discovered by what Alec had always assumed was a scar, rather than a birthmark.

Despite the fact that he didn’t have a mission, nor expected trouble, he went into the weapons room. There were a few other Shadowhunters there, but none of them paid him much attention, too busy readying their own equipment. He grabbed his bow, and his quiver, tucked the hilt of a Seraph blade in his pocket, and turned toward the exit.

_Crap._

“And just where do you think you’re going?” his little brother, Max asked. His arms were crossed, head tilted- the body language of their mother’s.

“Out,” Alec said. He usually tried to make more of an effort with his little brother, and he loved the kid, but now wasn’t the time.

“Out where?”

Alec mirrored the pose, and raised a brow. “Do you even realize how much you sound like _mom_?”

At that, Max sighed, and dropped his arms. “Everyone is busy.”

“Jace is here,” Alec said.

“I know,” Max grumbled. “But Dad said not to disturb him, he needs rest.”

“Don’t you have a book to read, or something?”

“I’ve read everything I have, twice.”

“Look, I have to go,” Alex said, crouching so he was level with his brother. “But I’ll pick up the next issue of that comic you’ve been reading on my way back, okay?”

Max let out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine.”

::

After stopping to pick up two coffees, each with a shot of espresso, Alec made it to Magnus’s loft. He placed his hand on the building door, and felt the strange, cool rush of the magical ward dissipating allowing him to open the door. A quick survey of the room told him first, that there were no enemies, and second that the décor in the lobby probably cost more than all the belongings in his room. He didn’t pay attention to the furniture (genuine leather, with gorgeous knitted throws; the antique vase older than Magnus himself,) or paintings (one done by a rather famous Seelie painter) instead making a beeline for the stairs. His height made it easy to take two at a time, and he knocked respectively at Magnus’s door.

“Come in!” Magnus’s voice shouted from the other side.

“You shouldn’t just leave the door unlocked like that,” Alec said, shutting it behind himself. He put the coffees on the little decorative table, and untied his boots.

“I have wards on the lobby,” Magnus chuckled. While there were other people who ‘lived’ in the ‘same building’ there were ‘separate entrances.’ When Magnus had explained this all to Alec, the hunter had been understandably confused, especially by all the air quoting. Finally, Magnus explained it as; ‘a duplex, the door has wards, when the wards break, it leads to my lobby. When the Mundanes go through and the wards are not touched, it leads to the lobby for the fourteen tenants of the building.’ Alec got it. Well, he was pretty sure he did anyway. At this point, he was willing to roll with it.  “And just who would mess with the High Warlock of Brooklyn?”

“Considering everything that’s happened in the past week?” Alec shot back. He put his boots together beside Magnus’s. With coffees in hand, he tried to follow the voice. Looking around the tidy living room (sans Magnus), he put the coffee cups down on coasters. “I brought coffee.”  

“Bless you,” Magnus replied from down the hall. “Hey, can you come here a minute? I want your opinion on something.”

Alec followed the voice to Magnus’s bedroom, pushing the door open all the way. Magnus stood in front of a large upright jewelry chest, in a shocking white suit that must have been tailored specifically for the Warlock. Staring at the back of the man, Alec found it difficult to breathe.

Magnus turned and held up a necklace and a ring. “I feel naked without at least a little jewelry,” he professed. “Which do you think is more suitable?”

The front of the suit impressed just as much as the back of it. The black shirt under it was unbuttoned at least four down, and displayed his chest without being _too much._ Alec found himself stepping closer, but he forgot to look at the jewelry. He reached out, awestruck, and touched the lapel of the white suit jacket. His eyes flicked to Magnus’s which were glamoured and scrunched in confusion.

Alec swallowed hard. “You look… incredible.”

A grin bloomed on Magnus’s face, even though the touch of confusion stayed. “Thank you.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in white before,” Alec whispered, toying with the pearl button.

“It’s not really my colour,” Magnus replied. “But it is customary for the deceased, and those helping preform the final rites of the Seelies to wear the colour.”

“Right.” Alec pulled his hand back, and cleared his throat.

“Alec?” A second later the confusion in Magnus’s eyes soothed out. “ _Oh, Alexander_.” Embarrassed, Alec went to turn, but found Magnus’s hand wrapped around his wrist. “For Shadowhunters, white is for weddings.”

“No, not technically. I mean it is. But more gold- or at least for the bride.” His ears were red, he could feel them burning. “A-and not exclusively,” he muttered, wishing this moment to pass. Magnus in white had taken him off guard, and despite the suit not having the flare of Magnus’s usual style, he pulled it off with ease. Magnus turning to him, smiling, dressed in all white was enough to give him heart palpations. “For death and mourning, the colour’s white,” he recited from an old Shadowhunter nursery rhyme. “White silk when our bodies burn- n-now that I think about it, our customs are a little like Seelies that way. Speaking of which, we should go,” he said in a rush, trying to change the subject. “I don’t like Isabelle alone at the Hotel Dumort.”

“Raphael gave his word,” Magnus reminded him. “Not to mention, your sister wouldn’t be leaving until she’d finished her duty.”

Alec searched for another way to just get out of the room and collect himself. “The coffee is getting cold.”  

“I’ll warm it,” Magnus said, looking Alec over. “You can’t wear that.”

Startled at the turn in conversation, he stared blankly. “What?”

“I’ll let you get away with the pants.” Alec looked down at the black straight-legged jeans Isabelle had bought him for his last birthday. Magnus tutted. “But the shirt and jacket have got to go.”

“What’s wrong with my shirt and jacket?” It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t something Alec hadn’t worn on various other occasions. He hadn’t been close enough to anyone who’d died in the fighting to warrant wearing the mourning runes, and thus didn’t think to wear white either.  A plain black shirt and leather jacket went with everything.

“We’re basically attending a funeral, Alec,” Magnus said. “She might not have been near nor dear, but those who do care for her are not permitted to give her final rites. We will.”  He went to his own closet and pulled out a white silk shirt, and hung it on the knob. “Wear this.”

Alec sighed, but conceded to Magnus’s point. “Alright.”

Magnus rewarded him with a large smile. “Now,” Magnus lifted his hands again, necklace dangling from one finger, a ring pinched between two others. “Which one?”

::

Alec didn’t know why Magnus asked his opinion on jewelry. He’d answered with the ring, because Magnus’s chest was distraction enough. Together they had portalled to the Hotel Dumort- outside due to the respect Magnus had for Raphael. They walked to the doors, minutes before daybreak, to find Simon waiting for them.

“Hey,” Simon greeted, rubbing his eyes. “About time you guys got here.” He stared nervously in the direction of where the sun would soon rise. “Come on, in, in, in.”

“How’s Izzy?” Alec asked once through the door that Simon secured.

Simon shrugged. “She wanted complete silence and no interruptions. We’re not allowed in for another…” he checked his watch, “six minutes.”

Magnus looked around with a grin at every gleaming surface in the gorgeous lobby. “Well it looks like you’ve been keeping busy since she send you on your way.” Simon’s face pinched in confusion. “You smell of lemon cleaners, and you have a rag hanging out of your pocket.”

“What did you do to piss Raphael off?” Alec asked with a teasing grin.

“Helped Shadowhunters break out Camille to find the Book of the White,” Simon replied dryly. “Remember?” He discarded the rag he’d been polishing furniture with on an old trunk, and led the way.

“Sorry,” Alec muttered.

Simon shrugged. “I’m lucky he took me back at all. Coming to warn them about the Seelies might have helped. However, I mostly just think it’s because he realized in that moment what an _idiota_ I am. He says I’m not calculating enough to be a traitor, but dumb enough to be danger. And thus-” he pointed out a couple of vampires. “Babysitters,” he hissed.  Out of habit, he brushed his finger across the bridge of his nose, as if he were pushing up glasses that were no longer there. “How is Clary?”

Alec snorted. “Great. Jace isn’t her brother, they looked happy when I left.”

“Wait-“ Magnus paused.

“Woah! What?” was Simon’s response.

“Yeah. We found out last night that Jace is actually related to the Inquisitor.” Alec shifted, uncomfortable that both men were staring at him, gaping.

“What? But-“

“Valentine must have lied,” Alec shrugged. “I mean, they’ll do DNA tests at this point to be sure. After being Wayland, then Morgenstern, I’m sure they’ll just want to be positive he’s actually a Herondale.”

Magnus smirked. “Biscuit must be pleased.”

Alec’s eyes squinted, before he recalled Magnus using the affectionate nickname for Clary. “Yeah, she looked it.”

Simon glowered, but continued on, taking the grand staircase. “Do either of you know what this entire ‘Seelie Death Rite’ includes?” he asked, clearly desperate for a change in topic.

“The Rite takes up to forty-eight hours to perform. Those who mourn usually scrawl butterflies on their skin- a tradition akin to the mourning runes of the Shadowhunters. They sever the wings of the dead, and burn them. Some keep the wing ashes of their loved ones. They hang the traditional curtains,” Magnus explained, following a step behind Simon up the stairs. “Candles are lit, and those who are closest spend time remembering and meditating in silence in… well, I don’t know the name of it. By what I’ve learned, there is a room in which the ceremonial death rites are done. After that, the bodies, dressed in white, are wrapped in silks- the colour, or pattern depending on the person. Sometimes one uses a certain colour to reflect the status of that Seelie.” He huffed out a breath on the landing, glared at his shoes, and then trekked on. “I imagine there would be a colour designated for the death of a Commander.”

“I think it’s safe to say she’d been stripped of that title,” Simon said, not even slightly out of breath after all the stairs.

“Is there no elevator in this place?” Magnus complained, once again glaring at his shoes.

“No,” Simon replied finally leading them down a hallway, rather to another staircase.

“Vampires,” Magnus muttered.

::

Isabelle looked half-asleep as she rose from a meditative position. She stumbled, and Simon steadied her, earning him a small but appreciative smile.. Alec didn’t blame her for the clear exhaustion. The battle the night before had been hard fought, and exhausting. He still felt tired, and he had managed to catch a few hours of sleep.

With her balance back, Isabelle stood near the head of the bed. “We’re going to need green silks.”

Magnus took up his spot beside her. “Green?”

“I decided while in meditation,” Isabelle replied. “It feels right.”

“Wait,” Raphael said, staring at Áine with a perplexed expression. He then turned to Simon. “Do you hear that?”

Simon raised a brow. “Hear what?”

Raphael shifted, and looked incredibly uncomfortable. “How sure-“ he paused, shook his head. “ _Dios.”_ He huffed out a breath. “How sure are we that she’s really dead?”

“She got stabbed through the heart,” Simon said slowly, brows pinched in confusion as he stared at the Clan Leader. “She’s not breathing, no heartbeat. We’re pretty sure.”

Magnus frowned at his old friend. “What is it, Raphael?”

The Leader of the New York Clan stared at Simon for a second, then Áine. “She… has a heartbeat.”

Magnus reached out and checked for a pulse on Áine’s neck. “No,” he said quietly. “No she doesn’t.”

“I know it sounds crazy,” Raphael said, words more accented in the stress of the situation. “It wasn’t beating before, but I can hear it beating now.”

Magnus shook his head. “She has no pulse.”

“I don’t hear anything,” Simon whispered, staring with big worried eyes.

“I can hear it,” Raphael insisted.

“Maybe it’s one of ours you’re hearing,” Alec offered.

Raphael scoffed. “No. Isabelle’s is at a usual resting beat, Magnus’s is slightly faster. Simon doesn’t have one -“

“Thanks for the reminder,” the fledgling muttered.

“And yours is stressed,” Raphael said to Alec. “You should try yoga or something.”

Alec frowned. He didn’t imagine the beginning of his day to include getting sassed by a vampire.  

Raphael pointed at the Seelie. “Her’s is this… sluggish fluttering. It’s not constant. It’s not what a healthy Seelie’s should sound like, but it’s there. You can’t just wrap her up in silks and put her on the pyre.”

Slowly, the Shadowhunters and Magnus turned to Simon. The fledgling shrunk under the attention, and groaned.

“Well?” Alec asked him.

Simon shot a pained look Raphael’s way, and shrugged. “Sorry.”

Raphael frowned at Simon. He pressed his fingers against Áine’s neck. Frowning, he tried the pulse point on her wrist, holding for a solid minute. Magnus raised a brow, and Raphael scowled at him, before bending over the bed, pressing his ear against her chest. “It’s her heart. I’m telling you it’s her heart. And it sounds-“

“Isn’t it customary-“ her voice hoarse had everyone jumping, and Raphael across the room, his fledgling behind him. “To buy a woman dinner first.” Áine managed a weak smile, her lashes fluttering. She took a breath in, and pain flashed across her face. She swore- in a language Alec didn’t understand, but only curses could be bitten out so violently.

Raphael looked quite smug as he approached the bed. He didn’t say, ‘I told you so,’ but it was implied.

Áine’s breath became quick and panicked. Her body sat up, moving stiffly, only bending at the hip. It reminded Alec of some horror movie about possession Magnus had made him watch. The quick shuttering gasps came with tremors down her arms as she hugged herself. At first, Alec thought of the sword that had gone through her chest, and then he heard the horrible wail escape her lips. _Her wings._ The loss of limbs had her sobbing, and Isabelle sat on the bed beside her, slowly, gently, pulling the frail looking fae into her arms.

Alec grabbed Magnus’s sleeve to acquire his attention, even though he continued staring at Isabelle gently rocking the weeping Commander. “She was dead,” he whispered.

“Oh yeah, one hundred percent dead,” Magnus confirmed.

Alec opened his mouth, and closed it, trying to figure out what he even could say to that. “Then… how?”

Magnus frowned and very slowly shrugged. “I have no idea.”

The sound of Isabelle softly singing a French lullaby- one Alec vaguely remembered their mother singing-eventually overcame the cries, as Áine’s body relaxed against Isabelle’s hold, slipping into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

They sat around a small round table. Raphael with a pint of blood, Alec, and Magnus with conjured coffee. Considered as leaders within their respective fractions, they had the responsibility of deciding what to do about Áine.

“Perhaps we should inform Meliorn,” Magnus said. The sip of coffee left a small smile on his face. “He appeared to be her Lieutenant. She would trust him.”

“Being that he was her right hand man, it’s likely he ended up as interim Commander of the Queen’s forces,” Rafael disagreed. “And that bitch already killed Áine once. The Seelie’s shouldn’t be informed about this at all.”

Alec’s eyes widened, surprised Raphael felt so strongly about the situation. “If we’re not informing the Seelies, where would she stay while she’s healing?” Magnus had done what he could about Áine’s pain, but she still slept fitfully. Isabelle had fallen asleep in a plush chair, but remained with the Seelie. 

Hearing Magnus’s text tone, both he and Raphael turned to the warlock. “Sorry, sorry,” Magnus said, but his fingers moved quickly over the keys. “I would take her in, if only out of curiosity. However, I expect my place is going to be full of clients for the next little while.” He sighed. “That battle with Valentine left many of the Warlocks with low energy stores, or grave injuries.” He touched a hand to Alec’s forearm. “I have to go.”

Alec put his hand over Magnus’s, thumb brushing over the ring he’d chosen. “Okay. I’ll text you later.”

Magnus stole a quick kiss, and flipped off Raphael before he could even say anything. The vampire chuckled. Magnus disappeared into the portal.

“Back to the matter at hand,” Raphael said. “Áine can stay here.”

Alec raised a brow. “The other day, Seelies- lead by Áine were at the doorstep of the Hotel Dumort with kill orders.”

Raphael downed the rest of his drink. “But she didn’t act on them.” He frowned into his empty glass. “She saved my life. I owe her a debt.” Dark eyes met Alec’s. “I know how badly I was wounded on that ship. I felt the venom coursing through my body. There is no way I should have survived it, yet here I am. I have questions. She has answers.”

“She’s virtually defenceless,” Alec said. “Are you sure she’s safe here with an entire clan of vampires?”

“As safe as she would be in the Institute full of Shadowhunters.” The dig didn’t hurt because Raphael had a point.

Alec’s phone rang in his pocket, and he did his best to keep his expression neutral. “Excuse me,” he said, walking a few steps away before answering the phone call.

::

It felt good. Typically, Alec treated hunting demons as business. Today, fighting beside his parabatai, his world fell back into place. Jace moved quickly, slashing, and stabbing. Alec found himself in the thick of it, too close to use his bow. The change of tactics came as easily as breathing, as he kicked the demon back, and reached out a hand. Jace’s seraph blade hit his palm, and he slashed, the body curling in on itself. He threw the sword back, knowing his parabatai would feel his intention. With a graceful pivot, he managed to pull his bow, an arrow, and notch it, firing just left of Jace, and killing the demon that had been approaching.

Jace struck out with the blade, finishing the last of the demons off. A triumphant laugh tumbled from his lips. “Damn,” Jace said a little short on breath. “That was good.”

Alec put a hand on Jace’s shoulder, and squeezed. He didn’t have to say anything. They both felt it. Their bond felt sharper, stronger than ever. He sent a smile Jace’s way, and Jace sent one back.

They walked along the waterfront, ensuring there were no more demons about to surface. The quiet after such a jubilant end of a fight made Alec nervous. He felt… something through the bond. Emotions that weren’t his. It hadn’t happened since they shared the incredible high of their souls joining. “Jace?”

The blond turned, and raised a sculpted eyebrow in silent question.

“Y-you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know.” Jace took a minute, and sighed. “I can’t stop thinking about those kids, Alec.”

Alec frowned; the guilt struck him through the bond. Despite the fact that they were watered-down emotions, they still made him feel sick. “There was nothing you could do.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Jace snarled. “I need to find them. I _need_ to.”

“You will,” Alec insisted, holding a hand out in the same manner they did when tracking someone. “ _We_ will.”

Jace’s lips curved, just slightly. His hand clasped Alec’s with a strong grip. “We will.”

::

Alec and Jace walked into the Institute a couple of hours later, both were burning through a Stamina rune. Demons, check. Bro-talk, check. Comic books- check. The scent of dinner wafted through the command center. The young men looked at each other with exhausted eyes.

“Is that pot-roast?” Alec asked, his mouth watering.

“I bet Maryse made those garlic mashed potatoes,” Jace said with a dopey grin on his face.

“You’re back!” Max made a bee-line through the command center, and stood before his brothers, but looking up expectantly at Alec. “Well?”

Alec rolled his eyes, thrusting the bag of comics at his little brother. “Is this all I’m good for to you?”

“No, you’re also good at teaching runes… well, kind of. Izzy’s better to be honest,” Max replied candidly. Alec frowned. Jace laughed. “Jace, can we train together later? Dad says I can practice with the daggers.”

Alec tried to keep from looking disappointed. He loved both of his brothers, and he understood the draw of Jace. Still, it hurt to find his little brother constantly asking Jace for training, or to just goof off. “He can’t tonight,” Alec found himself saying, barely managing to keep it from coming out strained. “We’re both exhausted, and running on runes.”

“Alec has a point,” Jace admitted, rubbing the sleep from one eye. “But tomorrow, buddy, bright and early.”

“Promise?” Max said excitedly.

“Promise,” Jace replied.

“Awesome!” He turned away, and then turned back, and hugged Alec suddenly. “Thank you for the books, Alec.”

Alec smiled softly, mussing up his brother’s hair. “Yeah, yeah. Is mom in the kitchen?”

“Yeah. She’s been cooking all day.” Max frowned. “Maybe you shouldn’t go see her.”

At that, Alec crouched down to his brother’s height. “What makes you say that?”

“Just...” Max kicked the toe of his sneaker into the floor. “I heard her fighting with Dad again.”

“About what?” Max avoided eye contact until Alec touched his shoulder. “Max?”

“You know you can tell us,” Jace said, crouching too. “We’re family.”

Max nodded at Jace’s words, but shot Alec a worried look. “They were talking about you… and Izzy too.”

“What about me Max?” Alec asked, worried too much of his annoyance leaked into his voice when Max stiffened.

“She just… said mean stuff… like how you… you’ll never be head of the Institute if you keep seeing the Downworlder.” Max looked like it physically pained him to recant the story to his brothers. “Dad tried to defend you, but Mom said, ‘we’ll lose the Institute because of him.’” Tears glistened in his grey eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Alec.”

Alec realized he must not have schooled his face as well as he thought when his brother broke down. He hushed little Max, and pulled him in close, his larger body enveloping the boy. “Shh, it’s okay.” He caught the mix of rage and pain on Jace’s face, and slowly shook his head. The last thing he needed was for Jace to get into trouble on his account. “Thank you for telling me Max.”

“It isn’t right that she said those things,” Max complained. “She wants to know why Izzy won’t answer. You keep saying she’s busy, but… Mom thinks she’s with the Seelie.. or with the vampire. She didn’t sound happy about either.”

“You shouldn’t be put in the middle of all this,” Alec said softly. “Why don’t you go enjoy your new books. I’ll talk to mom.”

“You can’t, she’ll get you in trouble,” Max protested.

Alec chuckled. “Well, I’m too old for her to ground me. I think I’ll be okay.”

::

Jace had protested, however, Alec overruled him, and went to speak to his mother alone. Sure enough, she stood over the stove, cooking for an army. Not an exaggeration. There were a few hungry hunters, he shot them a meaningful look, and they picked up their plates and left. He shut the door to the kitchen. “Mom.”

“Alec,” she said stiffly.

“I don’t expect you to suddenly get on board with the fact that I’m gay, or that I’m dating a Downworlder,” he said slowly, trying to maintain a level of calm- his exhaustion helped. “I would like if you had faith in me as a leader of this institute, considering the fact that I run this place half the time anyway.”

“What are you talking about, Alexander?” Maryse abandoned the wooden spoon, and turned to him with her rigid posture. 

“You were overheard, talking about me,” he said on a sigh. “If you’re going to have a row with Dad, you might want to keep it down.”

“I’m worried about you,” Maryse snapped. “I’m terrified for you.”

Alec’s eyes widened with shock. “Why?”

She scoffed. “You’re a talented Shadowhunter, but no longer is your claim to fame your expertise with a bow, no longer are you and Jace the golden boys of your generation. You’re mentioned in the same breath as Magnus Bane. The Clave sees a Shadowhunter who is a pet to a Warlock. They doubt your dedication to us. Yours and Jace’s, and Isabelle’s.”

His knees shook, fingers trembled, and tongue felt numb. “I see,” he whispered.

Maryse looked at her hands. “I fear my word doesn’t carry as much weight with the Clave as it once did.”

“I’ll be okay, Mom,” Alec said softly. “So will Jace and Iz.”

She took a deep breath, and looked up at him with watery eyes. “I always thought the most terrifying thing the Clave could ask of me was sending my children into battle. Every time you left, you and Jace, side-by-side, I feared that one or both of you would not return. I thought nothing could be worse. You could die at the hands of a Downworlder or a demon.” She touched his cheek gently. “But now I fear the Clave, and the way it is watching your _every_ move. You can’t fight the Law, Alec. For Shadowhunters… there are things worse than death.”

He understood what she didn’t say. If the Clave didn’t like what they saw from him, they could- and would- strip him of his runes. With a bit of uncertainty, he hugged his mother, and it felt like a weight lifted from his shoulder when she didn’t just hug him back, but squeezed him tight.

When they pulled back, she brushed fingertips over her eyes, wiping away evidence of her emotions, and her face smoothed out to a neutral expression. “Where is your sister?”

He thought of Áine, defenceless. He thought of the fragile truce with the Vampires. He thought of what his mother had told him. “Doing a job for the Seelies.” Her mother scoffed. “It’s not dangerous, or I would be with her. I think this one will be rather indebted in the end.”

“Seelies can not be trusted,” she said firmly.

“Not all of them,” he agreed. “But maybe some.”

“That’s idealistic.” She rolled her light blue eyes. “We are Shadowhunters-“

“And we need to make room for idealistic,” Alec cut in. “We need to make room for hope. Especially now.” 

“Naivety is dangerous,” Maryse warned. “Be careful.”

::

**To: [MAGNUS BANE]**

**18:26** @institute. BED.

**From: [MAGNUS BANE]**

**18:27** Bed?

Another text came in immediately following the one worded question. A blushing faced emoji and wink emoji. Cheeks tingled with heat. Alec bit on his lip, considering what to say.  Feet dragged across the floor through the residential wing of the Institute as he made his way to his room.

**To: [MAGNUS BANE]**

**18:27** how was your day?

 

**From: [MAGNUS BANE]**

**18:27** exhausting. I tended to wounded

warlocks for most of the afternoon.

 **18:28** the chairman just broke a vase.

FML.

Alec barked out a laugh. A broken vase hardly seemed like a situation the High Warlock of Brooklyn couldn’t handle.

**To: [MAGNUS BANE]**

**18:29** you’re a warlock.

**From: [MAGNUS BANE]**

**18:30** your eyes are stunning.

**To: [MAGNUS BANE]**

**18:30** what?

**From: [MAGNUS BANE]**

**18:30** I thought we started stating

the obvious, darling.

The stupid little endearment had Alec’s heart fluttering in a thrilled beat. He’d never been anyone’s ‘darling.’ He yawned widely as he reached his room, leaning against the wall for a minute to finish his text.

**To: [MAGNUS BANE]**

**18:31** I need sleep. If you were dealing

with clients all day- so do you.

can I call you in the morning?

**From: [MAGNUS BANE]**

**18:31** I look forward to it.

 **18:32** sweet dreams

When Alec entered his bedroom, he found Max curled up over the covers on his bed. A fond smile tugged on his lips. He grabbed the folded up grey blanket on the foot bench, and draped it over his little brother.

After a quick shower, he put on light pajama pants, and an old t-shirt. It felt a bit hot for sleeping, so he cracked the window open a bit before laying down on the bed next to his little brother.

“Alec?” the boy whispered, not sounding very awake.

Alec mussed up Max’s hair. “Yeah, I’m here.”

That seemed to be soothing enough, as Max’s breathing evened out and he returned to sleep. Alec out not two minutes later.

::

Alec woke to the ringing of his phone. He reached, knocking it off the stand. He cursed the object, but with the morning light pouring through his windows, he found it easily. Without checking the caller-id, he answered. “Yeah?”

_“Get here, now!”_

The panic in Isabelle’s voice prompted him into action. “What the hell is happening?” he demanded, keeping the phone pinned to his ear with his shoulder as he tugged up a pair of jeans.

She didn’t answer, he could hear muffled shouting, and knew he had to get there fast.

“What’s wrong?” Max asked from the bed.

“I don’t know,” Alec admitted. He tossed the phone to the bed. “Call Magnus.”

“Who?”

“Do it!” Alec barked, pulling open a drawer to find a pair of socks, before running over to his boots.

“It’s ringing,” Max said softly.

When Alec reached for the phone again, now dressed and tugging on his left boot, Max passed it.

_“I know you said you’d call in the morning, I didn’t think-“_

“Izzy’s in trouble. You can get to the Dumort before I can. Mags… please.”

_“Leaving now.”_

The call disconnected.

“Alec?” Max asked, his voice small and scared. “What’s wrong with Izzy?”

“I’m going to handle it,” Alec promised. “Don’t tell Mom.” With that, he was out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

The cellphone laid on the floor. Isabelle stood in front of it at the foot of the bed. The Seraph blade glowed in the eerily lit room within the Hotel Dumort. Two vampires moved at once, and she sliced, missing the first man by a hairsbreadth. She spun as she crouched, her whip flicking upward, slashing both of the men across the face.

A gasp drew her attention as the third vampire pulled Áine across the bed by her hair. The Seelie’s hands were clawing at the vampire’s arms leaving long scratches as she screamed. The temporary distraction cost her, as Isabelle found herself kicked to the ground.

“No!” She heard Simon’s voice before she saw him. He’d managed to get himself in between the two vampires and herself. They hissed at him, and he hissed back.

“Enough!” Raphael snapped. The three offending vampires, turned to their clan leader. Simon stayed semi-crouched waiting to intercept any threat to Isabelle as she swiftly got back to her feet. “Release her!”

“Keeping a Seelie here is just asking for trouble,” the vampire snapped, viciously twisting Áine’s hair as she shouted. “Just the other day they were at our doors willing to burn us alive. You owe her nothing.”

“I owe her my life,” Raphael admitted. “And it’s a debt I will repay.”

“Sire-“

“Enough Markus,” Raphael snapped. “Release the fay. Now.”

Markus’s lip curled over his fangs, but his hand slipped out of the tangled mess he’d created of Áine’s hair.

“Thomas, Cole,” Raphael turned to the other two vampires. “Leave the Shadowhunter alone.”

“Markus is right,” Cole said softly. “Having a Seelie here is too dangerous. The Queen will be furious to know we harboured her, and having one of the Nephilim here is insanity.”

“The Queen can only be furious if she finds out,” Raphael said, sounding bored of the conversation. “I suggest you don’t let word out. Secondly, Miss Lightwood is a guest here. My guest. A guest in which you’ve harmed. Get out. Keep your mouths shut, and be grateful that’s all I have to say on the matter.”

A portal opened, and out walked Magnus Bane, hands aflame.

The three vampires glared at the clan leader, who simply pointed to the open door. Once they left, Raphael slammed it shut. “ _Estoy rodeado de idiotas.”_ He huffed out a breath in his annoyance. He nodded to Simon, whose stance had relaxed since the three vampires left the room.

“What is going on?” Magnus asked.

“I should ask why you’re opening a portal into my hotel, Bane,” Raphael replied turning to Áine.

“I heard tell that Isabelle was in need of assistance.” Magnus stepped over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Your brother is on his way. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she looked over at Simon, a smile on her face. “And thank you.”

“And how about you?” Raphael asked the Seelie who laid on the bed, still clutching the crown of her head.

She snarled and forced herself into a sitting position. “Do not assume my weakness, Raphael Santiago.”

“I would do no such thing,” he murmured. “I promised sanctuary, and I have failed to supply.” She blinked, dark circles under her eyes. Arms wrapped back around her body, fingers trembling around the sunken in wounds where her wings once were. Annoyance flickered on his face when she didn’t bother answering. He turned to Simon. “Retrieve the Lightwood boy. Do mind the sun, won’t you?”

Simon nodded, and left the room.

Raphael turned to the Seelie. She didn’t look much better than she had the day before. Her eyes had flecks of green rather than the complete muted grey. Lips regained their soft pink colour, far healthier than the bluish ting they’d held in death. The scar on her chest stood out, perhaps because Seelie’s didn’t scar. At least, he’d never seen a single scar upon their perfect bodies. That was their lot. Beauty, perfection, they ensnared with coy smiles, and half-truths.

“How long until you’re healed?” he asked.

“I can’t go home,” she whispered.

Raphael sighed. “That isn’t an answer.”

“It is.”

Raphael shot Magnus a dry look. “Was she always this insufferable?”

“We heal faster in the realm,” Áine said. “But I can not return.”

“Maybe someone could sneak you in,” Isabelle said, sitting on the foot of the bed. “Or, should we tell Meli-“

“NO!” Áine cried out. “No, you can’t tell any of them.”

“I know you’re afrai-“

“I am not speaking out of fear for myself, Isabelle Lightwood,” Áine cut her off. “If the Queen hears that I am alive, she will seek out those who I was closest to. She will want answers- and even if they don’t have them, she will destroy them anyway.”

“She sounds awful,” Isabelle whispered.

“She is,” Áine replied.

“Then why work for her?”

“We all serve our Queen,” Áine replied. “For now, it is her.”

Alec stepped into the room, just ahead of Simon. His body visibly relaxed when he saw Isabelle. He raised his brow, and she nodded. Content that his sister remained in good health, he glanced at Magnus and flashed him a grateful smile. Between Magnus, and Isabelle, they caught him up on the earlier events, and their current discussion on Áine’s condition.

“Do… do you think Meliorn is in danger?” Isabelle asked.

Áine gave it a moment of consideration. “I do not believe so. The fighters of the court would most likely follow him. The Queen would be unwise to dispose of two Commanders so quickly.”

“Ultimately, the Queen commands the Court,” Raphael said, arms crossing over his chest. “Can she still command you?”

Áine considered it a moment, wincing when she shifted. “I do not believe so. When I died, I do believe that severed my bond to the Court, and furthermore to the Queen. Essentially, I’m free of all bonds to Queens and Courts of the realm. I am under no compulsion to answer to any of them.”

“Woah, there is more than one Queen,” Simon said, eyes wide.

“Of course,” Áine replied. “Is the Queen of England, queen of all continents?”

Simon looked to the floor. “No, no I guess that was a stupid question.”

“Seelies are secretive. It is not uncommon for misconceptions about us to come up. We tend to speak just enough to give basis to the fallacy. It keeps us safer.”

“We should let you rest,” Isabelle said. “But first, would you mind if I took a look at your wounds?”

Áine glared for a second, but it softened. “As you wish.”

Isabelle walked to the headboard, and bit her lip. The gaping holes where her wings once protruded were deep enough to see bone. “I don’t know much about Seelie anatomy, but this looks bad. Maybe…” she looked over to Magnus, brow raised.

“No,” Áine said, catching the silent exchange. “There is nothing the warlock can do.”

“But, you’re in pain, and this doesn’t look like it’s healing,” Isabelle said.

“You might not know much about Seelie anatomy, however, I do. Leave it.”

“You’ll heal?” Isabelle asked.

“Likely.”

“Will you at least let me wrap it, you could get infected or something.”

Áine smiled. “If that makes you feel better.”

“Si, gauze? A medical kit?”

Simon frowned, thinking about it. “There might be one in the basement.”

“I’ll go with you,” Isabelle said, after being in the room for a few days, it would be nice to stretch her legs a bit. 

When the door shut behind the two, Raphael frowned at Áine. “I still want answers.”

“I think we all do,” Alec said. Coming back from the dead- that was a new trick. It overshadowed yet another question- just how did she purge the demon venom from Raphael?

“Answers about what?” she asked sweetly.

Alec’s jaw clenched as it became clear she wouldn’t be giving straight answers. _Seelies._

Raphael stood near the bed, towering over where she sat, putting him in a position of power. “How about we start with how did you heal me?”

“Speaking of which,” she smirked. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” he ground out.

“Really, just fine?” She hummed a little pleased sound, pitching at the end like a question.  

His eyes narrowed at her. “What did you do?”

“Cutting straight to the chase, are we?” Áine cocked her head to one side, her grey eyes locking onto Raphael.

His face remained impassive, but his voice held an edge of annoyance, “Answer me!”

“Why should I do that?” Áine asked.

“Because it would be a real shame if the Queen found out you’re alive,” Raphael replied.

Her eyes narrowed. “And would that not bring trouble to your doors?”

“Or a new alliance.”

She considered it silently. “I doubt she’d go for it.”

“But she might.” Raphael smirked. “Or I could send you to the Clave. I’m sure they’d love to know how you came back from the dead.”

“You owe me-“

“And I’ve been repaying!” he snapped. “I’ve kept you safe-“

“You can’t even keep your own vampires in check!” she snarled in return.

“Enough,” Alec said, cool and even. “This is getting us nowhere.” A beep alerted him to a text, and he quickly checked it.

**FROM: [JACE WAYLAND]**

**[06:43] Max woke me. Worried**

**about Izzy. Where are you?**

**TO: [JACE WAYLAND]**

**[6:43] Dumort. It’s handled.**

“We need answers,” Raphael argued.

“And perhaps, in time, we’ll get them,” Magnus replied, trying to defuse the situation.

 

**FROM: [JACE WAYLAND]**

**[6:44] whts handed**

**[06:44]*what’s**

**[06:44]*handled**

**[06:44]ALEC?**

**TO: [JACE WAYLAND]**

**[6:45] Vamps angry about Seelie.**

**Izzy handled it. Trying to get**

**answers from Aine. No luck.**

**FROM: [JACE WAYLAND]**

**[6:45] Valentine wants the Seelies.**

**not that he respects downworlders**

**but he wants to convince them to**

**work with him.**

“Shit,” Alec muttered, and it drew the attention of the others in the room.

“What now?” Magnus asked.

“Jace says Valentine wants the Seelie’s fighting for him,” Alec said. He turned to Áine. “Would your Queen agree?”

“She’s not my Queen anymore,” she replied, avoiding the question out of habit. Still, she stared at him a moment. “Perhaps, if he offered her enough.” She frowned. “It could be why she refused to align herself with your alliance against Valentine.”

Alec ran his hand through his hair. “Damn it.”

**FROM: [JACE WAYLAND]**

**[06:47] How pissed is the Commander?**

Alec looked from his phone back to Áine, then back to his phone.

**To: [JACE WAYLAND]**

**[6:47] Very.**

“If the Queen agrees, Valentine would have one hell of an army,” Magnus said.

“But not the demons anymore. He doesn’t have the cup,” Alec said. “Without it, he can’t command the demons, nor can he make more Shadowhunters. He has however many Shadowhunters that managed to survive on the ship, and a Warlock. Jace was pretty sure Valentine was using one, one that must have made a portal to get him to safety.” He tucked his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “It doesn’t sound to me like he has much to bargain with.”

“Everyone has a weakness,” Áine said, her lips pursed with contemplation. “He would just have to find something that she wants.”

“Any idea of what that might be?” Alec asked.

Áine remained silent for a minute. “No. I was never her confidant; however, I imagine that if Valentine does want to use the Court, she’d tell him, just to get her way.”

Isabelle and Simon returned with a small, poorly stocked medical kit. Isabelle immediately took to tending to Áine’s wounds. The Seelie remained silent as the Shadowhunter wrapped her upper chest with gauze.

“Even if Morgana does not side with Valentine, she would remain a hindrance,” Áine said, wincing as Isabelle put the tape in place. “Politically, I noticed the Court shifting. While not outright saying it, there were many who opposed the Queen’s methods, or ideologies.”

“Do you think someone was going to ascend?” Isabelle asked, excitement pitching her voice.

Áine’s eyes glittered a little, a smile softening her features. “Meliorn talks too much.”

“Your culture is fascinating,” Isabelle insisted, catching the lost look on Raphael’s face, she turned only to see it also on Simon’s, Alec’s, and Magnus’s. “Look, the Queen is made by her constituents. If Seelies in her territory are unpleased, they start to look for someone else, someone who is right for them. Over time, if there is a consensus in the mind, the new Queen will begin to ascend. Queens become more powerful because of the belief of their people. That chosen Seelie will realize there is a change happening. As one rises, the other loses power.”

“That often leads to bloodshed. If the one ascending is found out, the Queen often has her opponent killed,” Áine said. “While what you say is a simplified version, you are correct. However, she who was ascending died.”

Isabelle’s posture deflated. “Damn it.”

Áine smiled wickedly. “However, coming back to life… if that doesn’t bring everyone on board, I don’t know what will.”

Isabelle’s jaw dropped, her eyes widened. “You?”

“Me.” Áine grimaced as she shifted. “Unfortunately, I’m not currently in a position to be revealing my status to my people, nor the Queen. When I am healed, that is a different matter.”

“Would you align the Seelies with the Shadowhunters?” Alec asked.

“If terms and conditions were met, yes,” Áine replied. She frowned when he pulled a face. “I’m not pulling the wool over your eyes, Alexander Lightwood. If I ascend, I will put my people first. I was alive before your Accords. I still remember the atrocities of Shadowhunters, of Vampires, of Warlocks, and Werewolves. Yet, I would align my people, and myself so long as they were treated fairly. It’s no less than what you would want for your own Shadowhunters.”

Alec nodded. “That’s reasonable.”

“Why should we trust you?” Raphael asked.

“Because I could have let you die on that ship, but I didn’t,” Áine replied. “Admittedly, I knew what the Queen would do to me, and I had to take a chance on saving myself.”

Raphael’s posture stiffened. “What do you mean by that?”

Áine huffed out a breath. “A little blood magic-“

“SEELIE BLOOD MAGIC!” Raphael roared, standing over her, hands shaking with barely leashed violence.

“It did not, and will not harm you in any way,” Áine stated calmly, as if the vampire didn’t frighten her in the least.

“I thought that was forbidden,” Magnus said.

“Well... it only really applies to Seelies born after the Written Rites were put in place in the early fifteen hundreds.” The Seelie gave a careless shrug, or started to before her breath caught and remembered her wounds. She slowly let out a breath as she lowered her shoulders. “Being born before, that particular rule doesn’t apply to me.”

“It’s barbaric,” Magnus said, his nose wrinkled at the thought.

“If you’re draining a dozen mundane virgins, sure,” Áine rolled her eyes.

“What exactly did you do to me?” Raphael asked, his voice too soft and alluring for the tight shoulders, and bared fangs.

“I do not wish to speak of it.”

Raphael’s eyes turned on Simon. “You were there. What happened?”

Simon took an instinctive step back, his hands raising up slowly. “Woah, I… I just did what I thought was best. And she swore me to secrecy.”

“You will speak,” Raphael insisted, stepping closer to the fledgling.

“Leave him alone,” Isabelle snapped. “He helped you. She helped you. You’re alive, be grateful.”

“And just what did she do to keep me from certain death, and bring herself back from the grave?”

At once, everyone turned to Áine. She sighed. “Fine. I require promises from you Lightwoods. You never speak of this to other Shadowhunters, and certainly not the Clave.”

Alec rubbed the back of his neck. “Why do I feel like this is a prelude to some major Law being broken?” Áine merely raised a brow, and Alec nodded. “Alright. It stays in this room.”

“I promise,” Isabelle said.

“I expect you fellow downworlders to keep your mouths shut as well.”

“Of course,” Magnus replied with ease.

Raphael had a clenched jaw, but he nodded.

“Using blood magic- the blood of myself and Simon, we were able to purify Raphael’s blood-“

“Wait,” Raphael raised a hand. “You fed me?”

“Yes.”

“Seelie blood.”

“You were unconscious; I figured the side effects wouldn’t take hold.” Her grey/green eyes remained unblinking. “And they didn’t.”

Isabelle smirked her brother’s way. “Seelie blood is a powerful aphrodisiac in low doses, higher doses and it causes hallucinations.”

“I know, I read,” Alec bit back. He shifted his weight to his other foot, casually brushing his arm against Magnus’s. He didn’t blame Áine for her secrecy. Such magic, if known about, would likely be studied by the Clave. The Accords would ensure the Seelies were either roped into using it for Shadowhunters, or banned from using it at all.

“So, I must admit, I’m dying to know,” Magnus said, eyes flickering just for a moment. “How did you survive?”

Áine grimaced. “I used blood magic to tether my soul to Raphael.” The room became silent as the tomb for a long minute where no one dared breathe. “I had to hope that you’d remain close enough to my body for long enough. The circumstances were not ideal.”

“We are bound?” Raphael said slow, fists shaking at his sides.

“You likely won’t notice much,” Áine said, finally appearing fearful. “It won’t hurt you. If anything happens to me, you might notice through the bond… like an aftershock. It’s nothing that will cause you harm, I swear it.”

“What happens if you die?” he asked, looming over her.

“Then I die,” she whispered. “You might feel the bond snap, but as far as I know, it’s painless.”

“You’re a parasite,” he snarled.

“I’m not leeching off of you.” Her arms wrapped around her chest. “I’m tethered. You being alive is now crucial to me being alive.”

He raised a brow. “If I die…”

Her eyes averted. “So do I.”

“Do Seelie’s do this frequently?” Magnus asked, shocked, and trying not to act it.

“No, it’s the kind of magic we stopped playing with centuries ago,” Áine said. “The Rites forbid it, certain clauses within the Accords have loopholes, but they meant to ban such things. It usually takes a lot out of the dying to do such a spell. It must be done within a certain window of time, so it’s not like we’re all tethered to one another. It’s magic as a final, desperate act.”

She turned her attention to Raphael. “It is now in my best interest to work with you. To ensure the safety of you and your Clan. If I ascend, I would want to be your ally.” Her attention shifted to Magnus. “And you’re the most trustworthy High Warlock I’ve met in six centuries. Not that that says much. We were at war with Warlocks for the first three hundred years of my life. You, however hold yourself, and your people to higher standards than the senseless slaughter of years past.” Her gaze shifted once again to where Alec and Isabelle. “And the Shadowhunters, they need reform. If there is ever to be an alliance between the fractions of the Shadow World, there need to be more Shadowhunters like the two of you.”

Isabelle perked up at the compliment. “The alliance must happen. I’ll do everything in my power to see to it.”

“Valentine wanted to destroy us,” Magnus smirked, smoothing out a wrinkle in the arm of his shirt.

“Instead, he gave us a common enemy,” Alec said.

Magnus flashed a winning smile. “Oh, Alec, finishing my sentences!”

“You two are adorable,” Isabelle said. Alec rolled his eyes.

Raphael continued to glare. “If this doesn’t work, if you don’t ascend, we’ve pissed off the Queen and her Court.”

Áine’s eyes sharpened to a clear green. “Then it better work.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Note; I know in the show the training center/gym is kind of attached to the command center, but for the purpose of this fic (mostly because this is the way I always pictured it when reading the books) they are in separate areas. Also, I know Alec has hazel eyes in the show, but I can't seem to write hazel rather than blue- probably saw it too many times in print.

The chandelier lit the organized room. A small pile of books on the nightstand was the only sign of disorder. Raphael pulled open his closet doors, the suit jackets were to the left, then collared shirts, then pants, then ties- all sorted darkest to lightest. With years of practice, and an eye for the finer things, he pulled together an outfit.

Soothing music played from the record player in the corner. While some might say he collected jackets, what he truly collected was records. He had an entire room of them under lock and key in the Dumort. They ranged everywhere from classical, to jazz, to swing, to rock-and-roll.

Dressed from the waist down, he pulled on the white shirt, and started to do up the buttons when he heard the light knock on the door. Less of a knock really, than a tapping of nails. Lily. “You can come in,” he said, keeping his back to the door.

“Have you checked up on your little pet?” she asked scathingly.

He took a deep breath. The vampires weren’t too happy about the Seelie staying with them. He himself hadn’t expected her to stay so long. A few days, sure, but they were already over a week. While he did everything to soothe the clan’s worries, there remained a lack of trust in the fey. At least the Lightwood girl had returned to her duties, that pacified some of the vampires.

“I have not checked up on Áine, no,” he replied, purposefully using her name. “Why do you ask?” With the buttons done, he turned around, popping the collar before tugging his jacket off the hanger.

“Raphael, I respect you, and your decisions,” she said, and he paused to look at her. It always hurt when she looked at him like that. He respected her, enjoyed her company, but knowing that she’d been in love with him for years while he simply could not return her interest always caused that uncomfortable knot in his gut. “But a Seelie in our home is causing unrest.”

“An ally in our home-“

“She’s nothing,” Lily argued, teeth bared. “What kind of ally could she possibly be? She was killed by her own queen!”

“Keep your voice down,” he snarled. Her anger, now that he could deal with. “You need to have a little faith in me, Lily. I do know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” she asked, arms crossed.

“Yes.” He pulled the jacket over his frame, and adjusted the collar of his shirt. “Now do you actually need something, or are you just here to doubt my decisions?”

She just sighed. “I really hope you know what you’re doing.” With that, she pivoted gracefully on her heel, and closed the door behind her.

Raphael clenched his teeth. _So do I._

:::

Alec stood in the training room, arms crossed, sweatpants hanging from his hips, t-shirt soaked with sweat. “Keep your guard up, Clary,” he shouted as he watched the redhead spar with his sister.

“I-“ Clary ducked quickly, but got clipped by a swift kick when she tried to stand again. Her breath huffed out as she dropped to one knee.

“Stop!” Alec called, ending the match as he walked into the square, crouching by Clary. “Don’t panic, your breath will come back.”

Clary sucked in a breath, and then another, and another in quick succession. She looked up at Isabelle, who panted from the exertion of their match. “You’ve got to teach me to do that.” She then looked to Alec. “And you’ve got to teach me to block it.”

Alec nodded. “We will. You’ll get there. You’re doing pretty well.”

“I’m getting my butt kicked every day that ends with ‘y,’” Clary said with a self-deprecating smile.

“Alec rarely gives out compliments, so when he does, he means them,” Isabelle insisted. “And you are doing well. You’ve been at this for such a short amount of time. We were born into it. We’ve been training since we could walk.”

Jace entered with Max, and his expression shifted from carefree to worried. “Clary? You okay?”

The redhead got back to her feet. “I’m good.”

“I’ll work on her with her guard,” Alec said. “Did you see Mom?”

“Yeah, we have the full night off,” Jace replied with a grin, holding up a wooden practice dagger, that had a balance that mimicked that of a seraph blade. “I’m going to work with Max a bit on his dagger technique.”

“Full night, huh?” Isabelle smiled, her eyes shifting over to her phone sitting with her towel and water bottle on the bench. Her attention returned to Alec, and Clary. “Do you two need me?”

“Oh, just go,” Alec waved her off. “You’ll be distracted if you stay.”

“Then I might actually get a hit in,” Clary mused with a grin.

“Just stay training with me,” Alec said, gibing a light pull to her ponytail, an affectionate gesture that up until that point he’d reserved solely for Isabelle. “I’ll make sure next time you’ll get a hit in.”

“Well see about that,” Isabelle said, but she stalked off to grab her belongings before heading to her room for a shower.

“I really doubt I’ll be able to get a hit past Isabelle’s guard,” Clary said. “I do, however, appreciate your help.”

“Trust me,” Alec insisted. “She’s used to sparing with me or Jace. Sure, she trains with some of the others here, but I’m not training you the same way.”

“What do you mean?” Clary asked.

“You’re short-“

“Always with the shortness,” she muttered.

He grinned and shook his head. “It isn’t a bad thing… well, it is when it comes to your reach. Izzy’s taller, she’s got a longer reach, it puts you at a disadvantage. She’s also got more muscle, and she’s got more weight to throw into her moves-“

Clary frowned. “So how does that work out to me winning?”

“I didn’t say winning, I said getting a punch through her guard,” Alec said as they grabbed their water bottles. He pulled her bottle away when he caught her chugging.

Water dribbled down her chin, and she glared at Alec. “What was that for?”

“Don’t chug while you’re training. You’re going to end up with cramps.”

“Oh,” she replied, wiping her chin. “Thanks, then.”

“You’re welcome.” Alec put his bottle down. “Look, the point is, you’re small, and you’re fast. How flexible are you?”

“I went to a few of those free yoga-in-the-park classes with Mom,” Clary replied. “I did pretty well.”

“Good. Look, Jace and I train to be stronger than our opponent, Izzy is used to that. Just as you were doing earlier, we beat against someone’s guard until we break it down. Now, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not strong enough to do that. It’s not a bad thing, you just have a different build, and we need to train you accordingly. I’m going to train you to go around someone’s guard and hit them where they aren’t expecting.”

“Is that how Isabelle was trained?” Clary asked as they headed back to the mat.

“No. Since we’re so close in age, she trained with me since she was old enough, and then Jace joined us. We all trained the same way.”

“But she is smaller than you or Jace.”

Alec took a deep breath, grounding himself. “Mom wanted her to train ‘like the boys.’” He shrugged. “It actually hasn’t been that long since women were allowed to fight.”

“Really!” Clary’s eyes widened. He nodded. Clary devoured information on the Shadowhunter culture like children ate candy. Sometimes, he purposefully gave her little tidbits and more than once, pointed her towards helpful books in the library, books that all Shadowhunter children were required to read.

“Look, Iz is strong, but she equalizes her smaller size with her wits, her-“ he wrinkled his nose, “distraction tactics, and her proficiency in weapons.”

“So… why don’t you train Isabelle like this?”

Alec shot her a lopsided grin. “It’s not that she doesn’t know how to fight like this, she just doesn’t. We all find our own… niche. Fighting style is like a choice weapon, you know when it fits.”

“Like your bow,” she said.

“Exactly. So, here is what we’re going to do...”

::

After making his presence known in to the vampires in the Hotel Dumort, Raphael warmed up a pint of blood for breakfast. He missed his biggest problem being idiot vampires getting a little too tangled up in their mundanes. Harbouring the fey caused fault lines to run through the clan, and he could only hope that he had chosen the right side.

With the glass of warmed blood in hand, he headed for Áine’s room. She sat alone by a small table, chess pieces set up. She glanced up when he entered, eyes widening just marginally. “Raphael, I did not expect you.”

The fact that she had recognized his pattern in his visits caused the frown on his face. He should have expected as much. He took a quick look around. The blankets on the bed were messed up in such a way that they looked as though they’d been set up that way, the pillows too. Other than half-burned candles that were no longer lit, there was no clutter.

He returned his gaze to her, dark eyes taking in her complexion that looked a bit healthier, although, his knowledge of fey health could fit a thimble. “How are you?”

“Better,” she replied. She scratched at the gauze that covered her torso, the black tanktop must have been Isabelle’s at one point. The track pants were for much longer legs, and didn’t fit properly to the woman. She motioned to the board, “Would you care for a game?”  

“I have work to do.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. “Alright.”

“You must be immeasurably bored in here,” Raphael noted, taking a sip of his blood.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve sat for days in silence,” she said, not sounding angry, or put off in any way. “This really isn’t so bad. Simon visits. He’s… curious, and still too young to understand caution.” She smiled. “And too new to the Shadow World to know what he should or should not say to someone like me.” Raphael stiffened, and it must have been a visible tension because her smile softened. “It’s not a bad thing, I enjoy his company,” she said. “But you might want to give him pointers before he speaks with other fey. Not all are as forgiving as I am.”

“You haven’t corrected him,” Raphael said. “Why? Don’t your kind swiftly reply to insults?”

“ _I’m_ not insulted by curiosity. Perhaps with more understanding of one another we’d have less war.” She shrugged. “Besides, he’s the only one in here who’s not either afraid to speak to me, or wants to kill me.”

As if on cue, Simon appeared with a bag of groceries, and another from a comic store. “Oh, hey Raph.”

“Raphael,” the vampire corrected, his voice lowering with the underlying threat.

Simon swallowed hard. “Sorry.”

“Would you care for a game?” Áine asked him.

“Chess,” Simon looked at the game, then back to the fey. “I do believe you thoroughly slaughtered me at it yesterday. Check this out, I bought a board game from the comic shop down the street. It can be played with two or more people. Do you want to try it instead? Give me a fighting chance.”

“Sure.”

“Great!” Simon said excitedly. “Raphael, you want in?” The clan leader shook his head. Simon shrugged it off and passed Áine the bag of groceries. She looked in and took a nectarine out.

“Why don’t you play it in the gold suite?” Raphael offered. “Might be better to get out a bit more.”

“Yeah!” Simon grinned. “Those couches are way more comfortable than these wooden chairs.”

Áine’s green eyes shifted from Simon to Raphael. “Are you certain? The vampires do not appreciate my presence. Giving me such permission might anger them further.”

“Let me deal with them,” He turned his back and headed out of the room. “The choice is yours, I just figured you might want a change in scenery.” A moment later, he heard the soft pads of her bare feet trailing, and Simon’s mix of too-fast, conscientiously-slow strides alongside her.

::

Max stood feeling the familiar ache in his arms when he finished training with Jace. _‘Very impressive, Max. Won’t be long till you get your runes, then you’ll really be a force to be reckoned with.’_ The memory of Jace’s praise had him standing a little straighter. He had always desired the praise of his siblings, even more so than his parents. Maybe because his parents, while they scolded him when he did something wrong, they praised him when he got it right. Isabelle always complimented him, whether it be on his runes, or his form. Jace would every now and then- when he really earned it, especially on the training room floor.

Then there was Alec.

Alec, who he and Jace watched at a distance, still training the redheaded Clary Fray. Max frowned at her.

“Good, Clary,” Alec said when the girl hit the managed to roll, get back to her feet, and swing a kick back.

Alec almost never said anything nice to him. Alec always treated him like a little kid. Alec always had something to say about his form, or the curve of his runes, or whatever else he could nitpick about. He loved his brother, of course he did, but it frustrated Max that he’d worked for years for Alec to notice he did good too.

“Again?” Clary asked, panting, her knees shaking a bit.

“No, you’re done. You did well.” Alec smiled. “We’ll work on it some more later in the week.”

She smiled widely. “Thank you, Alec.” The smile remained when she realized Max and Jace were watching. “An audience, how did I do, boys?”

“Incredible,” Jace replied. “You’ve picked up a lot in a short time.”

Her hands went to her knees as she tried to catch her breath. “Well now, I’d kill for a shower and some sleep.”

“You’ve earned it,” Jace said. He looked down at Max. “I think we all have. Good session, bud.” He held out his fist, and Max took joy in bumping his smaller one against it. “Good night.”

“Good night, Jace,” he replied. His eyes narrowed, but he kept the smile in place. “Clary.”

“See you in the morning, Max,” she said cheerfully, before stalking off with his brother.

Max looked to Alec, who took up a fighting stance, and started to punch in a familiar rhythm. He sat down and watched his brother’s perfect form with envy boiling in his gut. Alec’s hands straightened, and he stopped the bag with open palms. Blue eyes shifted over to Max.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for bed?”

“I’m not tired,” Max said.

“It’s late, and you are tired.” Alec sighed and walked over. His long legs folded neatly as he sat across from Max. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Max said, picking at a thread on his shorts. “I’m fine.”

Alec sighed, and rubbed his neck. “Did you like the comic books?”

His lips twitched. “I’ve only gotten around to reading a few of them, they’re pretty good.”

“That’s good,” Alec replied. “Why don’t you read a chapter before bed?”

The almost-smile fell. Of course, Alec didn’t want him around. “Yeah, I guess I could do that,” he muttered. He pushed himself to his feet, and Alec stood. “Good night.”

“Max, are you sure nothing is bothering you?” Alec asked, concern clearly etched in his face.

“I said I’m fine,” Max bit back. He watched as Alec’s eyes shifted, his mouth parted, and he was moving. “Wha-“ The question cut off when Alec grabbed his arm and dragged him over to the bench. Only there did he see what Alec had been looking at, the burning mark on the wall. “Is the Institu-“ the word died off, not on fire as he’d been about to ask, but scorched marks were forming on the wall in the shape of the fire rune. He grabbed tight to his brother’s arm. “Alec!”

“Take this,” Alec thrust his cellphone into Max’s hand. “Listen to me, we don’t have much time. Go through the first door. Head straight for the command center-“ he glanced at the clock above the door and cursed. Max knew why, it was late, only a skeleton crew of two or three would be staffing the computers- if they were lucky. “If anyone is there, tell them to recall any Shadowhunters, get weapons, and get here. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Max said quickly. He glanced over his shoulder as the scorched mark burned red. “Shouldn’t I just pull the fire alarm?”

“No, we want people to understand what the threat is, and I’m telling you it’s not a fire. Now, after that, call Magnus, the contact number is in my phone,” Alec spoke in a rush, words blending together, making it hard for Max to keep up with the orders. “Tell him who you are and that it’s an emergency at the Institute and we need him here.”

“Okay, I will,” Max promised.

“Then go to the Mom’s office. She’ll likely still be there; she’ll handle everything from there.”

“Come with me,” Max said, holding a fist full of his brother’s shirt. “We’ll do it together.”

“I have to hold them off, and give everyone a chance to prepare.”

“There isn’t even a bow in here!”

“I’ll be fine.” Alec squeezed his shoulder. “Now go.”

Max looked as the burn mark became glowing embers, and the slash of a Seraph blade sent part of the wall crashing down.

Alec grabbed one of the training poles from the wall. “Max,” he shouted. “Go!”

The boy went off running.

::

“Ha! The space station is mine!” Áine looked quite pleased with herself.

Simon started to smirk, and her triumphant expression turned weary. “Too bad I rigged it to blow,” he said, turning over one of his face down cards. “I just have to roll higher than a three.”

With a pout, she pushed the dice over.

He rolled a four. “Yes!”

“That doesn’t mean you’ve won,” she reminded him, reassessing her strategy.

“But I’m one step closer,” Simon replied. “Can I ask you something?”

“No,” Raphael cut off from where he was working on his laptop.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Simon said.

“I know,” Raphael replied. “It’s still a no. It’s rude to prod a fey, and if you start getting personal they’ll have your head.”

“I’ve never taken someone’s head for getting… personal,” she said shooting him a wicked grin. Raphael glared at her, and she just laughed it off. “Ask me, Simon. I promise not to take your head for a question.”

“What’s the fairy realm like?” Simon asked, resorting his cards.

“Have you ever taken a walk in a meadow?” Áine asked, discarding, and drawing a new card.

“Born and raised in Brooklyn. I went camping a couple of times with my dad… before.” Simon frowned. “It was out in the woods.”

“That’s close enough. It’s not all concrete and skyscrapers, it’s mostly greenspace, little huts. There are homes that are more modern now. It’s earthy, and spacious. Things don’t feel the same here, it’s not more or less real, it’s just not the same.” She stopped, and looked at his pinched face and grinned. “I’m not explaining this well, am I?”

“Sounds… green,” Simon supplied.

“It’s beautiful,” she said wistfully.

“You miss it,” he said.

“Not really,” she rolled her dice, and moved her little space ship. “I can stay away from the realm for years, it didn’t bother me. I couldn’t for the past few decades, my position keeps me by the Queen’s side. Now… I just miss it because I know if I went home I’d heal faster.”

Simon raised a brow. “But it is healing, right?”

“The tissue is regenerating,” she frowned. “It could take up to a year.”

“That long?” Raphael looked up from his laptop.

“Outside of the realm, yes. Even inside… wings are a complicated part of our anatomy. It’s hard to heal them. I knew Seelies who could regrow their wings in a span of weeks-“

“Woah!” Simon dropped his cards. “Your wings are re-growing?”

Áine shrugged a little. “I’m not sure. I’ve never had mine cut off before. Some fey regrow them, others don’t. We’re not really sure why. Just like we have no idea why those who can regrow them have a regeneration span of a few weeks, while others can take up to a year.” She ended her turn, and passed Simon the dice. Her fingers ran over her collarbone, over her shoulder, and poked at where the holes in her back were. “I don’t wish to speak of wings any longer.”

“Sorry,” Simon said softly, and returned to the game.

::

In all his years, he couldn’t recall feeling anger like this. The Seraph blade sliced straight through the pole he’d been using to defend himself, and he back flipped out of danger. They might look like Shadowhunters, they might have Seraph Blades and steles, but they were nothing more than Valentine's minions. A corrupt version of all he held dear. He held tightly to that anger, hoping it would get him through the fight. 

When training with weapons, they always brought them from the armoury, lining the walls were wooden staffs, swords, and daggers. Nothing that would withstand Seraph blades. He needed to get a weapon.

Five of Valentine’s Shadowhunters were already through, and Alec couldn’t do much but dodge. Already exhausted from training Clary he found himself sluggish, but didn’t have the space nor time to activate his stamina rune. Thinking on how he trained Clary, he switched tactics. Tucked and rolled, he swiftly rose on one foot while back-kicking with the other. The man fell forward, blade falling and de-activating as it slid across the wood floor. He tried to crawl to it, but far too slow for Alec.

The blade lit back up. There were too many. Far too many. Ten in the room, and more lit blades and witchlight could be seen through the hole in the wall. He reminded himself that Max would get help. He just needed to hold them off long enough for it to matter.

A blade swung at him, a big arch, clumsy and untrained. Alec moved fast, pushing the blade to the side, and flipping his blade around and up into the stomach of his enemy. One down.

Too many to go.


	5. Chapter 5

Max ran and skidded to a stop in at the command center. Most of the computers were asleep, a screen lit up Raj’s face. “Raj!” he shouted and the man jumped in his seat. “Get weapons and… and recall the Shadowhunters from the field! We’re under attack!”

The man’s face scrunched up. “Max, this isn’t a game-“

“No it isn’t!” Max shouted, hating that people only saw him as just a kid. His big brother needed him to get help, and he wasn’t about to fail. “Alec needs help now, the training room, go to the training room.”

Raj stood, and typed something at his computer. On the big screen the security footage from the training room came up. The curse left Raj’s lips, and returned to his computer to recall those in the field.  

On screen, there were a few of the bad Shadowhunters focused completely on Alec, and his brother barely held them off. Six on one made it difficult to block, and they were caging him in. If they succeeded… Max felt sick, sicker still when he saw the blood on Alec’s left thigh, and the way he barely held weight on it.

He heard the heavy footfalls, Valentine’s Shadowhunters running up behind him. Looking over his shoulder, the hall lit with Seraph blades. “Raj!”

“Go to Maryse, Max. Run!”

Max ran down the stairs, jumping off the last three and sprinted through the command center. He had to hope that Raj could get to the armoury. He dashed down the hallway, unlocking his brother’s phone, and paused a moment to go through the contact list. As it dialled, he looked back to find three rogue Shadowhunters turn to look at him.

 _“Alexander,”_ the voice purred. _“What a pleas-_

“It’s Max,” he panted as he started running again. “Come to the Institute. Alec,” he said his brother’s name and it caught on a sob. He fought to be strong, to be fast. With a look over his shoulder, he knew he wouldn’t make it to the office. They could run faster. “Valentine’s men!”

One fell, then another, then the last. Raj had a crossbow. “Go!” He shouted, turning his back on Max, and lining up another shot.

There were too many in the command center. Max knew that Raj had to fall back. Logic, tactics, those were things he’d been taught in school. “Alec!” He shouted, not sure at who, just desperate to get his brother aid. “You have to help Alec!”

“Max, go!” Raj shouted, backing up steps as he fired.

 _“Max, what is going on?”_ Magnus’s strong voice an anchor. “ _Where is Alec?”_

“Valentine’s men are in the institute,” Max panted as he ran through the hallways toward his mother’s office. “Alec is in the training room. They came through the exterior wall, he- he’s trying to hold them off.”

_“Where are you, little Shadowhunter?”_

“Almost to mom’s office. I’m going to get help!”

_“Good. Stay with Maryse.”_

“Alec?”

 _“I’ll get him.”_ Magnus said it more like a heated promise than a simple statement. Max held onto the phone like a lifeline, even when the phone line went dead. Magnus had promised, and Alec had trusted him. His big brother would be okay. He had to be.

He didn’t knock, just threw open the door, and his mother jumped in her seat. “Ma-“

“Valentine’s men are in the Institute!” Unlike with Raj, his mother didn’t question. She pulled open a drawer of her desk, and pulled out a blade and her stele. She tucked the blade into the belt on her dress and grabbed the naginata from the corner of the room.

“Max!” she shouted as he ran back out the door. “Get back here!”

“I’m going to wake the others!” He looked over his shoulder to find his mother didn’t have much of a choice but to hold the hallway with Raj, there were several rogue shadowhunters storming down the hall.

He woke Penelope, Jamie, and Victor before getting to Jace’s room where he knocked frantically and pushed it open without waiting. The knocking must have been enough because Jace already stood at the side of his bed wide-eyed and confused.

“Valentine’s men… here,” Max said trying to catch his breath. “They’re in the Institute.”

Jace grabbed him, pulling him further into the room when they heard footsteps in the hall. Penelope looked in, her hair wild from sleep, leather jacket thrown over floral pink pajamas, seraph blade in hand. “Get Max to Robert, Jace. I’ll wake the others.”

“I will,” Jace promised.

Jace opened his closet and grabbed a blade from the top shelf. He paused, and took down a dagger too. He passed the dagger over to Max. “Just in case.”

The blade lit for the little Shadowhunter, who nodded solemnly.

::

The flickering purple light in the corner of Alec’s eye made him grin. _Well done, Max._ While the portal distracted some of Valentine’s men, Alec capitalized on the moment, he activated his stamina rune breathing in as the rush of energy crashed over him like a wave. A man landed a well-aimed kick to Alec’s stomach, his air huffing out in one breath, Stele falling from his fingers.

A shockwave of blue flames knocked the man over and gave Alec the space to catch his breath. “Alec!” the short of his name sounded odd on Magnus’s lips, but time was of the essence.

“I’m good,” Alec replied.

Magnus ducked, and came up with a fist of blue flames. The man fell, twitched slightly, and remained unconscious… or dead.

Alec swung the blade, falling into the familiar patterns of battle. He dodged, struck out with his fist, pivoting around with the blade swinging, slicing two of the men badly.

Magnus threw fire until he could get closer to Alec, and the two stood with their backs to one another, Magnus conscientiously ensuring he didn’t crowd Alec.

It had been years since Alec had been in a fight like this, and never without his Parabatai. Alec usually kept back from the fight, his arrows downing enemies, from a distance he could protect Jace, and Isabelle too if she were with them. Even in down and dirty bladed fights, he always had Jace- the Parabatai bond seemed to vibrate and his heartbeat slowed just slightly. They might not be in the same room, but they were both fighting, which probably meant the Institute was completely infested if they’d gotten all the way to the residential wing. He jumped back out of a swing, and his back bumped against Magnus, the magic going wide, and sparking against a light fixture that side of the room went dark save for the blades.

Alec didn’t have time for an apology. The Shadowhunters fought by the lights of their blades, and the light on the other side of the room- close to the hole in the wall. Magnus’s blue magic casted strange glows before dissipating on enemies. There were more of Valentine’s men lingering outside, keeping the exit clear. Magnus and Alec were clearing out the room. Thirteen men down to four, the bodies on the floor making it difficult to move.

An arrow sailed by and Alec cursed. “Take cover!”

A difficult order when the training room was essentially a wide-open space. A dark shape appeared, and Magnus’s magic flipped it. A harvest table. That would work. Alec vaulted over it and heard the ‘ _thunk, thunk, thunk’_ of arrows striking the wood one after another. “My bow. Can you get it?”

“I need to be able to picture where it is.”

“It’s in the armoury, where it always is,” Alec said in a rush. “Just where I put it when you handed it back to me that day.”

Magnus held out his hand and focused. A second later, he had it, his quiver too. A quick hard kiss on the lips from Alec, and the Shadowhunter took the supplies. He peeked over, and just in time, he swung the Seraph blade catching the untrained Shadowhunter off guard. He looked on the floor, until he spotted his Stele. “I need the Nyx rune. My Stele is over by the water fountain.”

Magnus poked his head around the board and tucked back in when an arrow sailed past. He held out his hand, and the Stele appeared. “One Stele, as ordered.”

Alec gave a grin. “If this wasn’t such a grave situation, this could be fun.”

“You have a peculiar definition for fun, Darling,” Magnus shot back as he watched Alec draw the Nyx rune on the back of his hand, and took the time to hike up his shirt to draw the Iratze for his wounded leg.

“Where is your sense of adventure, Mags?” Alec said with a teasing grin.

“I must have forgotten it at home along with my midnight blue Alexander McQueen coat, which is a shame really. I would have looked stunning for battle.”

“But you do,” Alec said with a slight grin. He took a few deep breaths, notching an arrow. “Knock out the light.”

Magnus managed a half smile, popping his head up, and raising his hand. The magic launched out and smashed the remaining light. “Here’s hoping Valentine hasn’t taught them what a Nyx rune is.”

Alec had the same fear, but said nothing of it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. This situation wouldn’t get better if they didn’t do something. “Stay down,” Alec ordered. “No magic-“

“I might give you away with the lightshow, I got it. Be careful.”

“Always am,” Alec promised as he swiftly rushed out of sight in a half crouch.

::

The entirety of the Institute had become a battleground. Shadowhunters fought shadowhunters. Runes and Seraph Blades made it difficult to tell friend from foe in the heat of battle. Bodies lined the halls, and Jace made sure to look at each face. Some he knew, others he didn’t, none were a Lightwood or a Fairchild. He felt bad for being relieved.

He turned the corner with Max on his heels, only to have two men swing at him. One blade sliced his arm as he jumped back, knocking Max onto the ground. One of the men fell with a throwing knife to his throat, and Jace didn’t have time to see where it had come from. Instead, he engaged in a sword fight with the other. Their blade’s locked, and the older man had both height and weight on his side. “Pangborn,” he snarled. There had been a time that he thought the man had killed his father, the face forever burned to his memory. Regardless of the recent truths that had come to light, the man still worked for Valentine, and more than that, had been part of the original circle.

The man flashed a cruel smile. More men and women were coming from the hallway. Jace knew he couldn’t take them all. “Max. Run.”

“No, Jace,” he said firmly, raising his blade. “I’m not running.”

Pangborn laughed. “Little Lightwood, if you want to die like the rest, so be it.”

“No one else is dying, Emil,” Jocelyn put herself between Pangborn, and the boys. “Not unless it’s you.”

“Listen bitch-“

“No! You listen!” she snapped, sword glowing in her hand, high in a defensive stance, a harsh lighting causing the angles in her face to look harder.

A moment later, they all heard it.

The howl of a werewolf, followed by dozens of others.

Very slowly, a smile crept upon Jocelyn’s face. “You’re done.”

Pangborn’s face contorted with anger, and he swung his blade.

::

Isabelle returned to pure madness. “By the Angel,” she breathed, standing just inside the front doors, the command center an absolute wreck, seraph blades swinging. Meliorn stood at her side, looking at the damage. “You should go. This isn’t your fight.”

“I extended my thanks to Clary Fray for that night you saved me,” Meliorn said, slowly looking around. “But you risked everything for me. You nearly lost your runes. A Seelie repays their debts.”

“We need weapons,” she said, grabbing his hand, she pulled him into an old hall that lead to the secondary entrance to the weapons area. Once inside, she used her stele to unlock the chamber, the weapons sliding out in a neat display. She grabbed a seraph blade, and adjusted the whip coiled around her wrist. “A sword for you?”

He nodded, eyes flicking between the doors, keeping an eye on their exits. “Everyone’s been taking weapons. Damn it!” She opened another wall safe, and found Hodge’s chakrams. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. Above it she found a rapier, and pulled it down. “This will have to do.”

She extended the weapon to him, their hands touching as he took it. Glancing at his own hand, he frowned. “Áine was a menace with a rapier,” he said sadly. He looked over at Isabelle. “I never did thank you for completing her final rites.”

She surged forward, kissing him firmly, afraid he’d see the lie in her eyes if she said anything. His free hand found her hip, and pulled her close. Her senses returned, and she pulled back. “I have to fight.”

“I have your back, Isabelle,” Meliorn promised.

With one look, she memorised the look of him like that, solid and strong. Her deceit gnawed on her, but she booted open the door and charged into the fray.

::

When someone backed into her, Clary found herself far too close to the blade of her enemy. She threw herself into a front roll, as Alec had taught her. At first, she’d though the exercise was silly, pointless even. Alec had insisted. _‘Again. Again. Again.’_ Drilling the command into her until she tucked neatly, and rolled like second nature. She’d have to thank him later. Back on her feet, she turned, and raised her blade to block, bearing down and leaning her weight into it. She stepped back, and shoved her bare foot into the man’s gut, right on target. Tucking under the guard she stabbed upward and took the man down. The moves she’d used were taught to her by a variety of Shadowhunters; Alec, Jace, Isabelle, and Lydia.

She saw the blonde Shadowhunter out of the corner of her eye. Lydia spun slicing three men at once, and making them take a step back from her, giving her room to move again. The brief moment of distraction lead her to being grabbed by her hair. A cry escaped her lips, and she dropped her blade, both hands going to her hair, trying to get the person to release her. A seraph dagger pressed against her neck, and her whimper was drowned out by the battle. She heard Jace shout her name, a second later the hand went lax, and she heard the body fall.

Turning, her eyes widened. There stood little Max, dagger in hand, he too stared at the body. He then looked up at her. “Are you okay?”

“Clary!” Jace shouted, catching up. He had blood flecked over his shirt, and a cut in his arm. “Max! I… You… You were supposed to stay with me, Max.”

“Clary was in trouble,” Max protested.

Jace didn’t reply, instead his eyes zoned in on something down the hall, and he charged, Max on his heels, and Clary grabbed her blade and followed. Several men were surrounding Lydia, and Jace, followed by Clary started to even out the odds. They had a steady rhythm together, an ease gained from training with one another.

Lydia huffed out a breath as she cut down the last of Valentine’s men. She looked lovely in a black slip, her hair in a French braid. “Clearly, Valentine is going for quantity, not quality.”

“How many would die by the Mortal Cup to produce this many Shadowhunters?” Jace cringed at the thought. He witnessed those who died by the cup, many more died than survived.

“I don’t even want to think about it,” Clary said, looking around, but there were only friendly faces, most trying to catch their breath, and looking for friendly wounded. “Have either of you seen my mom? I haven’t seen her since dinner.”

“She’s fine last I saw her,” Jace said. “She was going head to head with Pangborn,” he spat the name like a curse. “And not alone. We have werewolves in the Institute.”

“Seriously?” Lydia asked, wide-eyed.

“Jocelyn must have called Luke when this started up.” Jace gave a devil-may-care smirk. “Maryse is going to be pissed.”

As if on cue, a little growl came from down the hall. Startled Shadowhunters once again raised their weapons, but Jocelyn stood beside the grey wolf. “Relax,” she said, “He’s with me.”

Most still kept their weapons ready as the two made their way down the hall. “Clary.”

“Mom!” She walked into her mother’s embrace, and even reached out to touch the top of Luke’s head. “You both okay.”

“We’re fine,” she said tersely. “I think Pangborn got away. He’s wounded, so there is that.”

“I hope he suffers,” Jace muttered.

“Me too,” Jocelyn said. “The back end of the residence is clear, we need to keep sweeping forward and clear out these vermin.”

“Happily,” Jace said, before glancing down at Max. “Jocelyn?” When she turned back to him, he continued. “Have you seen Maryse? Or Robert?”

She shook her head. “Sorry, I haven’t seen any of the Lightwoods.”

Jace frowned. “Damn it. I don’t want Max coming into battle with us.”

“He’s probably safer with us than anywhere else in this Institute,” Jocelyn said.

“She has a point,” Lydia said.

Jace frowned, but nodded. He looked down at Max. “Keep close.”

Max nodded, but grabbed Jace’s arm to regain his attention. “Alec?”

Jace’s hand touched his parabatai rune. “He’s still kickin’ ass.” The relief evident on Max’s face made him smile. “You’ve done good tonight, Kid.”

::

The Command center is in ruins. Glass littered the floor, crunching under the boots worn by Shadowhunters. Lydia practically dances around it with the kind of fluidity that had to come from a rune. Isabelle found herself near the Clave’s envoy, striking out with her whip. Isabelle enjoyed the friendship that had developed after that whole, ‘tried to marry my gay brother, and had me on trial.’ thing.

“Have you seen my brothers?” Isabelle asked, tucking low, and slicing up with a dagger.

“I saw Jace.” Lydia let out a little angry scream when she threw her weight into a blow. “And Max,” she panted, locking onto her next target. “They’re together.”

“Good,” Isabelle thrust out her whip, and gave it a pull. Lydia stabbed quickly, and the man fell. She flashed Lydia a smile. “Teamwork.”

The blonde smiled back.

::

From Max, Jace knew the location of his parabati. However, getting there seemed impossible. There were still too many, and while he might be able to just run through, he couldn’t risk abandoning Clary, and certainly not Max. Werewolves snarled in the heat of battle, a risk really, to help them. A risk no Alpha but a former Shadowhunter would take. Although grateful, as the wolves were quickly evening the odds, he worried about the state of things after for Luke. He couldn’t see the werewolves really being happy about this decision.

He took comfort in the pull of the bond, in the strength, of the heartbeat synced with his own. Alec still fought. And Jace fought harder, the sooner the room cleared, the sooner he could get to Alec.


	6. Chapter 6

Staying hunkered down behind the harvest table he’d pinched from a high-end furniture store in the Hamptons made the short list of hardest things Magnus Bane had ever done. He heard the shouts of men and women, the clash of weaponry in the diustance, the groans of the fallen. The scent of smoke and ash lingered from the burned portion of the wall. The pitch black left him sightless, and more than a little panicked. He desperately wanted to light the room back up with magic, if only for a moment to find his Alexander, to know he still stood.

He peeked around the edge of the wood, and saw the lit blades, lighting the shadowy figures, one jolted back, an arrow in his chest, the blade falling and deactivating as it hit the ground. “Come on, Alec,” he whispered. There were only a few left, and he suspected more of them had left rather than fallen to the archer’s arrows.

A stele lit, searing the skin of a man in the midst of seraph blades. Not Alec. From the distance, he couldn’t tell what rune the man had drawn on his skin, but he feared it would be the Nyx rune. The man pulled a bow from his back and notched an arrow. “Alec!”

An arrow flew and Magnus heard it hit the wall. But he’d also heard movement from that side of the room. “Damn it.” He took the risk to stand, if he could just knock the man out in one hit. Another shadowhunter moved, blocking his view. He’d have to knock him out first, then hit the archer. Magic thrown at such a distance might dissipate before hitting the target, or not come with the kind of blow needed to knock him out of the way. 

Before he could come up with a ‘plan b,’ more arrows flew, more hitting the wall, two Shadowhunters fell, but apparently Alec couldn’t get a proper angle on the archer of the group because that man kept firing, and finally succeeded in hitting his target.

The pained shout from Alec hit Magnus like lightning. Suddenly hyper-aware of his surroundings, anger and fear building within, his magic rising with a dangerous lack of control. “Alec!”

The archer went down, three of the bladed men went running for their escape in the wall. One of them fell before they made it, an arrow in the back. One arched as blue flaming magic hit his back, the man screamed as the magic settled over his body, Magnus stared with violent focus. While the magic left no visible wounds, it attacked nerves until the body knew only pain, trembled with it, body convulsing until it went limp and lifeless.

Flames licked along his fingers, curled possessively around his wrists, tempting and dangerous.

“Mags.”

The breathy voice brought him back from the edge. He turned toward the voice, still unable to see, he swirled his hand and the glass crunched as it came back together, forming the lightbulb, illuminating the room.

Bodies laid on the ground. Some were slashed with the blades, others had arrows piercing through their flesh, the rest had no visible wounds, their lives ended with magic.

And then there was Alec. Crouched in the midst of the bodies, his beautiful Shadowhunter had dropped to one knee. Bow in a white knuckled grip. “Magnus,” he whispered, eyes reflecting worry and pain. “You okay?”

One step, another, and another. His breath caught seeing the fletching end arrow sticking out of Alec’s leg. “You’re the wounded one.”

Alec pressed the end of his bow to the ground, and used it to stand on his good leg, his face scrunching in pain. “It went clean through. I… I’m not sure if it hit the artery.”

“Either it didn’t, or the arrow staying in place is keeping you from bleeding out,” Magnus said, his anger falling away completely as the fear replaced it. “Your stele?”

“Lost it in the fight,” Alec said. “Besides, if… if it did hit he artery.” The muscle in his jaw jumped when he clenched his teeth. “I need Jace. He’s my parabatai.”

Magnus sighed. “And parabatai drawing runes for one another are more effective-“

“Not only that, but an iratze rune might not be enough, I might need more,” his face pinched in panic. “And I might not be in a position to draw them myself.”

“I can heal you,” Magnus said. “We don’t know where Jace is, and we don’t know how many of Valentine’s men are still here.” He knelt down in front of Alec, his fingers carefully touching around where the arrow pierced him, blood soaking his sweat pants. “The arrow will have to come out first though.”

Alec’s hand came down on Magnus’s shoulder, perhaps for support, or balance. “I trust you,” he said softly. “I can cut the end off with my blade, I’ll need you to pull it out the back of my leg though.”

The thought of Alec in pain, even if he could ultimately heal it, shook him. He pressed his face into Alec’s abdomen, he inhaled deeply the scent of sweat, and smoke that went with the battle, and the underlying earthy scent he associated with Alec, desperate to ground himself. “Okay,” he whispered pulling back. “Okay.”

The blade near Magnus’s face brought him no fear, despite a history of bad blood with Shadowhunters. He had no fear of Alec turning against him, and trusted him with an intensity that scared him. The blade easily cut and burned it’s way through the arrow in an easy slice. With that, Alec dropped the blade, his hands bracing themselves on Magnus’s shoulders. “Mags.” Magnus looked up at him, waiting. “When you do it, just do it. Don’t be gentle. Pull it straight out. Doesn’t matter if I scream, don’t listen if I tell you to stop.” He ordered firmly. “You pull it out.”

Magnus took one last look at the wound, nodding slowly. “Not the most romantic way to get you out of your pants, but I’ll need to yank them down to see what I’m working on. Anything in the way could hinder healing magic.”

Alec managed a half smile. “Anything to get me out of my pants, huh?” He then nodded quickly. “Just do it.”

Magnus’s bare hand wrapped around the arrow shaft, he hadn’t worn jewelry to bed, and the lack of rings now spoke of how quickly he’d prepared to rush off to aid his boyfriend. Taking a deep breath, he pulled, and underestimated how difficult it would be to pull out. Alec’s hands tightened to a bruising grip on Magnus’s shoulders. A pained groan escaped clenched teeth, and Magnus knew that Alec would do everything in his power not to make a sound. The quick yank had managed to dislodge it an inch or so, part of the shaft still showing on the cut side.

A quick curse, and Magnus remembered Alec’s earlier advice. He needed to get this arrow out, and he needed to heal him before he potentially bled out. He couldn’t pause. Gritting his teeth he pulled again, his hand slipping on the blood, and slicing his own hand on the arrowhead. A foul curse later, he gripped harder, and pulled.

Alec’s nails dug into his shoulders, the pained cry cut into Magnus’s heart. Another pull, and the screaming didn’t stop. Something warm and wet hit Magnus face, and it stunned him into freezing. Looking up, he saw the pain etched into Alec’s face, his eyes scrunched tightly shut, tears shining on his face, slipping from his chin, another hitting his arm. “Alexan-“

“Finish it,” he demanded in a sob. “Help me.”

The desperation made Magnus’s eyes water. “I’ve got you.” One more pull he had the arrow finally came loose, and he dropped it. Grabbing the waistband of the sweat pants he didn’t have time to be gentle and yanked them down, the loose fabric falling to his ankles. “I’ve got you,” he repeated, his hands lighting blue, each hand taking a side of the wound, wrapping around Alec’s muscular thigh. “I’ve got you, Darling.”

Magic focused and knitted the flesh. Healing magic had never been a specialty of Magnus’s, but he knew he’d throw everything into fixing his sweet Shadowhunter. The magic continued to drain, but he grounded himself in the feel of Alec. Those tight muscles, the hair on his legs, the slick warmth of blood, his fingers gripping with immense strength, fingernails clawing the fabric of his shirt.

Somewhere within, he could feel muscle repairing, skin regenerating. As exhausting as healing was, he didn’t let go. Magnus poured himself into his Alexander, repairing the wound with care and love, and not a single thought of how it might affect him to run this low on magic with Valentine’s men still potentially in the Institute. His every thought centered on Alec, and repairing the damage done to him.

The hands loosened their death grip, and one carded through Magnus’s hair. “Mags,” Alec whispered. “Magnus. Look at me.”

Trembling slightly, unfocussed, Magnus obeyed. Alec’s hand threaded through his hair again, and then once more, settling there. “I’m okay.”

Magnus checked with his magic that still danced along Alec’s thigh. Intact. Healed. Strong. A shaky breath left his lips. Trembling fingertips brushed over the front of his thigh, inspecting the leg, and finding no wound. If it weren’t for the blood still on Alec’s skin, he’d be able to convince himself that Alec hadn’t been injured at all.

The hand not in Magnus’s hair left his shoulder, and the back of his hand brushed over both cheeks, wiping away the evidence of tears. “Thanks,” he whispered.

Magnus stared up reverently, a response on his lips that died when the door flew open. Magic immediately surged defensively, the blue flames licking his fingers even though his stores were low. They both stared at the door, Magnus letting the magic fade with a sigh.

There stood Jace, Isabelle, Clary, Max, and towering behind them, Robert Lightwood.

Jace smirked. “Is now really the time, or place?”

Magnus couldn’t keep up, emotionally, physically, and magically drained.

Alec actually caught on first, pulling his hand out of Magnus’s hair. “It’s not what it looks like!”

At that statement, Magnus understood what their audience had seen. The High Warlock of Brooklyn on his knees before Alec Lightwood. The shadowhunter with his pant’s down, and hand in the warlock’s hair.

“That’s a lot of blood,” Max said, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Jace sobered at that. Golden eyes falling to the bloody arrow on the ground.  A stele already in hand. “Need help, brother?”

“No.” Alec bent to pull up his pants. He then grabbed his boyfriend’s hand, helping him back to his feet. “Magnus healed it.”

Magnus had a ringing in his ears, vision getting blurry. “Darling,” the word came out slurred as he fell into Alec’s strong arms.

“Mags!” the alarm in Alec’s voice had Magnus’ gripping the man’s arms.

“I’m just a little lightheaded.”

“We’ll get you a spot to lay down,” Alec promised, he looked over his shoulder. “Is it done?”

“Lydia is sweeping through with a team,” Robert said. Magnus saw the look of curiosity on his face, and just a bit of worry. He preferred that to Maryse’s looks of outright disappointment and disgust. “Some of them started running for the doors, all at once, as if they’d accomplished whatever it was they came for.”

“Any ideas on what that would be?” Isabelle asked.

“Valentine might have wanted to assassinate a particular member of the clave. We’re… we’re still looking for Imogen Herondale,” he said, casting a worried glance Jace’s way.”

“We should help with clearing out the place,” Jace said, flipping the blade still in hand.

“And assisting any wounded,” Clary said, poking at the small bruise on her face.

Magnus hardly paid attention to the conversation happening around him, he heard the words, understood them, but it all felt like unwanted noise. He wanted to curl up in bed, and sleep for a week.

“Are you injured anywhere?” Alec asked, the breath of the words a caress along the shell of his hear. Something so small, so simple shouldn’t have undid him so completely.

“No,” Magnus whispered back. Despite the lack of energy and magical stores, and despite being in a place full of occasionally hostile shadowhunters, he felt secure in Alec’s arms. “Tired.”

“I’ll take you to my room,” Alec said, his voice soft, and comforting. The promise of security, and care.

“You have your people to take care of,” Magnus said. He knew Alec had a duty to the Institute, especially in time of crisis.

“You _are_ my people, Magnus,” Alec replied firmly. “And I take care of what is mine.”

The promise undid the warlock completely, and he knew, without a doubt, that he belonged completely heart and soul to this shadowhunter.


	7. Chapter 7

The utilitarian bedroom served Alec well over his years. He never much thought of it needing personal touches, not until he practically carried Magnus through the door that Max held open for them. He saw his room for the first time as an outsider would; devoid of personality, cold, and empty. There were no pictures, no knickknacks, everything had it’s place inside of drawers.

Now, Magnus slept in his bed. Shoes removed, and placed by the foot of the bed. Alec stared at him for a moment, taking a moment to breathe, leaning against his dresser.

“Do you think Mom is okay?” Max asked, sounding remarkably small.

“Mom is kind of a badass,” Alec replied, reaching out to ruffle Max’s hair. “And so are you. You did just what I needed you to do. You saved a lot of lives by alerting everyone. You certainly saved me by calling Magnus. I’m so proud of you, Max.”

The brilliant smile lit up the child’s face.

“Can you keep an eye on him?” Alec said, motioning toward Magnus. “I need to wash this blood off.”

Max nodded, and Alec grabbed some clean gear before heading to the bathroom.

::

Isabelle finished writing the message in her quick, but elegant script. It didn’t seem enough for all Meliorn had done, he’d protected her in the battle. With a little smirk she remembered how well they moved together in the fight. She signed off with a short line of x’s and o’s. Quickly drawing the appropriate rune, she held it up and watched it catch flame, with a careful flick of her hand it burnt up and disappeared.

“Izzy,” Jace’s warm hand braced against her shoulder. “Have you seen Jocelyn? Clary’s been looking for her.”

“She went outside with the werewolf pack,” Isabelle replied. “Probably wants to get out of here before shadowhunters start getting antsy.”

“Considering that the wolves helped even the odds, the shadowhunters should be grateful,” Clary muttered.

“You think I don’t know that,” Isabelle raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Meliorn came with me, fought alongside me. A seelie that our people nearly put to the Mortal Sword.” She turned her attention to Jace. “Did you find the Inquisitor?”

“Yeah, she’s alright,” Jace said, looking conflicted. “She’s contacting the Clave.”

Isabelle sighed. “That will go over well, I’m sure,” her voice dripped with sarcasm. “This entire night was a disaster. They came into our home,” the little break on the last word forced her to stop. Collecting her emotions, she turned to Jace. “They had to of had a reason for this attack. It was too well planned.” She looked around the command center, the overhead lights illuminated the broken screens, bloody corpses, and discarded weapons. “I’m going to see if I can find a computer that didn’t get damaged. There must be footage, maybe I can figure out just what happened.”

“Try the one in Maryse’s office,” Jace suggested. “It might still be intact.”

Isabelle nodded, and left Jace and Clary. She stepped over the bodies, fighting the urge to be sick. Raised a shadowhunter, she was no stranger to violence. Being a pathologist, she was no stranger to blood, or bodies. It was the magnitude of the event that disturbed her. The battle that had come to their doorstep, and violated their home.

She arrived at her mother’s office, and pushed on the door only to find something blocking on the other side. Crouching a little to lower her center of gravity, she pressed her shoulder against the door, and pushed. Whatever blocked the door weighed enough to slow progress, but not so much that Isabelle couldn’t move it. Adjusting her feet, she pushed again, finally opening a space big enough for her body to squeeze through.

The whip slithered over her hand, and coiled on the floor, ready, just in case. She swiftly stepped in, and found the room empty. She let out a sigh, and glanced down to see what had blocked her way.

The whip fell from numb fingers, and a scream tore from her throat.

::

“How long do you think it will take Clave members to arrive?” Luke asked, sitting outside, on the Institute’s steps with Jocelyn. He’d already sent the pack home, they were lucky not to have any grievous injuries.

“Given what just happened, tomorrow morning we’ll probably be seeing them.” Jocelyn stomped the heel of her shoe into the stair in a brief venting of frustration. “A few months ago, my biggest fear was having to tell Clary of the Shadow World, of having the Clave find us.” She buried her face in her hands. “And now she knows, and she’s a part of it. She wears the runes, she speaks like them, acts like them. I can barely see my precious little girl within the warrior she’s becoming. It terrifies me.”

Luke’s hand warmed her back, it shifted, over her shoulder, and slowly drew her closer. “You couldn’t hide it from her forever.”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “I tried. I tried for too long, and it caught up with me. Maryse and Robert aren’t so bad with her, you know, as far as Institute heads Clary could have gotten caught up with worse.” Jocelyn lowered her hands from her face, and looked over at Luke, desperate for some kind of comfort she couldn’t ask for. “But this will be Clave officials. People with history. They aren’t going to see Clary Fray. They’re going to see Clarissa Morgenstern. They’re going to see Valentine’s daughter, and nothing else.”

Luke’s sigh was bone weary. “I’m afraid you might be right.”

“I’d take her and run. I’d run from this whole damn mess if it meant keeping that little girl safe.”

“You’d never be able to run far enough to evade this, Joss,” Luke replied. “Clary isn’t a little girl anymore.” He frowned. “And there is no way she’d run from this fight.”

Jocelyn groaned. “I know. I know,” the first came out angry, the second defeated. She turned her face into his chest for a moment, deeply inhaling the comforting scent of the man who’d always been there for her. “You should go. The pack needs you… and you shouldn’t be here when the Clave gets here.” Despite her words, her hand clenched in the fabric of his shirt, silently begging him to stay, just a moment longer.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Soon,” he replied, knowing he couldn’t avoid the inevitable. For now, he held tightly to his love. He wished that things could be different. That things could be normal. That they weren’t divided by the curse in his veins, by the runes on her skin, by the Clave, and tradition, and a million little things that cut like thorns, and left them both sore and bleeding.

So they sat, holding each other close. Both understood the impending war, the threats that loomed overhead like the Mortal Sword threating to fall.

The doors behind them opened, and they both jumped to their feet. Clary stood at the top, her shoulders immediately losing the tension when she saw them. A little smile tugged on her lips. “Am I interrupting?”

“No,” Jocelyn replied, her voice firm, strong again despite the previous moment of weakness. “Luke was just leaving.”

The smile fell from Clary’s lips, and she hurried down the steps, Luke catching them both from falling when she collided with him, her arms wrapping around his waist. “Thank you for coming.”

“Hey now,” Luke pulled her back just enough that he could see the stress creases in her forehead. “I’ll always be there, whenever either of you need me. You know that, right?”

Clary’s red curls bobbed when she nodded. “I know.” She hugged him again, tightening her hold.

::

When Robert walked into Alec’s room without knocking, the young man expected a lecture, cold words about letting a warlock, a downworlder sleep in his room. Alternatively, he also wouldn’t be surprised by his father just coming to collect Max for the evening. However, what he doesn’t expect is the absolutely broken look upon his father’s face.

“What happened?” Alec asked, mentally trying to prepare himself for the worst. His parabatai bond is strong, he saw Isabelle and Clary earlier. Max is at his side. Magnus is in his bed. It clicks before his father said a word. “Mom.” She’s the only one of the family who hadn’t been accounted for.

“She’s in the Infirmary. We’ve sent for the Silent Brothers, but…” Robert swallowed hard. “It’s bad, boys.”

Alec felt Max vibrating, so tense while trying to keep it together. Stoic, he put a hand on Max’s back, and the boy folded into him, pressing his face against his abdomen. It’s a strong reminder of just how small, and young his baby brother is. Although the boy is too big for such things, Alec picked him up easily, cradling the boy who’s legs and arms were desperately wrapping around him. Tears silent but dampening the skin of his neck, and the collar of his t-shirt.

“Max, go with Dad,” Alec said, voice as soft and comforting as he could manage. He set his brother down, and the child rubbed at his eyes.

“You’re not coming to see her,” Robert’s voice held a frosted edge.

“I can’t leave Magnus like this,” Alec said, gesturing to the bed.

“She’s your mother,” Robert snapped.

“And he’s my boyfriend,” Alec replied, tense but managing to keep his aggravation from his tone. “I’m not leaving him like this.” _Especially not here, and certainly not now._

Robert’s face twisted with his anger, but he held out a hand to Max. “Come on, kiddo. I’m sure Mom would want you at her side.”

When the door shut behind them, Alec deflated, sitting on the side of the bed. Emotions threatened to overcome him. Now, more than ever, he needed Magnus. Needed his comforting words, the touch of his hand, the steady presence. Since the man slept deeply, Alec took what he could, fingertips shaking as they ghosted over the skin of Magnus’s hand. He sat there, holding hands with his unconscious boyfriend, praying to the Angel that his mother would be okay.

::

Hearing about Maryse left Jace feeling cold. He found Isabelle, Robert, and Max in the infirmary with her. It seemed impossible for the formidable figure of Maryse Lightwood to appear so weak and fragile. He didn’t notice his hands curling into fists until Clary let out a squeak, and he released her hand, muttering a quick apology.

“How did this happen?” he whispered.

“Raj said it was like she was targeted,” Robert said. “They got split up early in the fight.”

“Why target her?” Isabelle asked, her voice hoarse.

“She is the technical head of the Institute, right?” Clary asked.

“Valentine running this much of a risk, throwing in that much of his force just to get to Maryse?” Jace shook her head. “If that were the case, she would be dead right now.”

The door opened, effectively shocking everyone out of the conversation. Hands grabbed for weapons, only to discover three of the Silent Brothers standing in the doorway.

 ** _Leave her with us._** The voice echoed through their minds, and while they all couldn’t seem to help but to look at Maryse one more time, they left together.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes- One, sorry this wasn't up last weekend. I've caught either a wicked cold, or a flu- still have it, but finally had enough energy to finally finish off this chapter. Fingers crossed I can get another out this weekend. 
> 
> TWO: IMPORTANT-- I've changed a few things in my original outline (this story originally was going to be MUCH shorter, I've added so much!) due to these changes I'll be changing the rating to M (for violence, and probable sexual content.) I'll also be editing the synopsis since as it currently stands, we're still not really to that entire seelie civil war thing and we're now eight chapters in.

Isabelle walked down the hall with Jace and Clary. Most of the residential wing had been cleaned out, a few scattered blood stains the only indication that the night had gone well and truly to hell. Isabelle paused outside of her brother’s room, and had the decency to knock. She heard the muffled, ‘come in,’ and pushed the door open.

She scanned the room and found her brother sitting on the side of the bed. His heavy-lidded eyes, turned to her, and from across the room she could tell that his stamina rune appeared slightly red around the edges. Part of her wanted to scold him for not being there for their mother, but she saw his fingers interlaced with those of Magnus’s unconscious form, and could find it in herself to do it.

Crossing the room, she sat on his dresser. “How is he?”

“Exhausted.”

“So are you,” she noted.

“How’s Mom?” he asked, clearly deflecting the conversation.

Isabelle swallowed hard, and stared at the crack in the window past Alec. Instead, it fell to Jace to answer. “She’s not good. The Silent Brother’s are with her. Robert is waiting by the Infirmary. Max is stubbornly staying with him, refusing to go to bed.”

Alec looked from his parabatai, to his sister, to his hand interlaced with Magnus’s. “Does anyone have any idea of what happened tonight?”

“No. I went to check the computers,” Isabelle stopped, her lower lip trembled and she bit down on it hard. Drawing breath through her nose, she closed her eyes, trying desperately to calm her emotions. “The command center is a wreck. Jace suggested I try the computer in Mom’s office.” Her breath quickened, and she blinked quickly against the tears forming in her eyes. “Something blocked the door from the other side, I just kept pushing against the door till I could get it opened. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.” Her breath shook, and she closed her eyes tight.

“Maryse’s body was on the other side of the door,” Jace filled in, having already heard the story. “She must have been trying to crawl out injured, but fell unconscious by the door.”

Silence hung heavily in the room for a long moment. Alec shook his head. “That doesn’t sound like Mom.”

“What doesn’t?” Isabelle snapped too loud.

Magnus’s cat eyes opened. He sat up in shock, and looked around wildly. Alec’s free hand came to cup Magnus’s jaw. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe.” The tension bled out of him, and he leaned into the touch.

“How long was I asleep?” Magnus asked in a quiet whisper.

“A little over three hours,” Alec replied. “Go back to sleep.”

Instead, Magnus studied the exhaustion in Alec, Isabelle’s red-rimmed eyes, the tension in Jace, and the clear distress on Clary’s face. He turned back to Alec. “What happened?”

“Mom is hurt. The Silent Brother’s are with her,” Alec said softly.

The mention of the Silent Brothers was all Magnus really needed to know when it came to the severity of the situation. Magnus’s hand tightened around Alec’s. “Maryse Lightwood is a strong woman. I’m sure she’ll pull through.”

Isabelle snapped her fingers a few times, her expression hard as she stared at her brother. “What did you mean Alec?” Magnus looked confused, but no one bothered to catch him up on the conversation. “Of course Mom would try to get to help if she was wounded. There would be no point in hiding in a room.”

“Of course there is a point to hiding when injured,” Alec argued. “She could have drawn a rune, but it sounds like she didn’t. Which means she didn’t have her stele. Thus, of course she would have tried to get to help.”

“Exactly what it looks like she did,” Isabelle snapped. “That’s why I found her on the other side of the door.”

“No, Izzy,” Alec’s voice stayed at the same volume, but annoyance leaked in when clearly no one else followed his train of thought. “What I mean is, why, in the middle of an invasion of the Institute, was Mom in her office. I know Max got to her, which meant she would have joined the fight, so she wouldn’t have been caught by Valentine’s men inside of the office. If that is the case, why was she found there?”

Alec looked at Magnus, then Isabelle, a frown on his face. “Oh, shit.”

Jace perked at something in his parabatai’s voice. “What?”

“Her lock box is in her office,” Alec said.

“What?” Clary continued to look confused.

“Like my lock box in the training room,” Alec explained already on his feet, and moving toward the door. “It opens and locks with only a specific stele.”

“Please tell me that isn’t where Mom put the Mortal Cup,” Isabelle begged, her heels clicking on the hardwood floors as she followed.

“Of course it is,” Alec said, praying he was wrong.

The group stormed their way over to Maryse’s office, and Alec pushed open the door. There were papers on the floor. His mother’s favourite weapon on the floor by his feet. He walked around the desk, and sure enough, the lock box stood out of the ground. Isabelle, Jace, Clary, Alec, and Magnus stared at the empty shelf.

“We lost the Mortal Cup,” Isabelle said softly. “Again.”

Alec turned, and punched the wall with enough force to feel the hit straight down his forearm. “Damn it!”

“Alec,” Magnus’s hand on his shoulder did nothing for him.

“You should leave,” Alec whispered, looking over his shoulder, frowning at the hurt expression on Magnus’s face. “You shouldn’t be here when the Clave arrives-“

“Alexander-“

“We lost the Mortal Cup. There is no scenario where this ends well.” He turned, feeling the pain in his hand and up his arm. Stupid, brash, something more befitting of Jace than him. Somehow, the pain steadied him. He held Magnus’s waist with his uninjured hand. “I don’t want you caught up in this. Please.”

“How sweet,” A man in a fine suit stood in the doorway, flanked by two other’s dressed formally on one side, and Imogen Herondale, who appeared flustered, on the other side.

“Who are you?” Alec asked, taking a step forward, subconsciously putting himself between the man and Magnus.

The man smiled, and adjusted his tie. “I’m Victor Aldertree. New head of the New York Institute.”

Alec shook his head. “Just because my mother is injured doesn’t mean there aren’t other’s to take over in the Interim. So why are you here?” Technically speaking, Robert Lightwood would take over next, and if incapable for any reason, Alec himself should be in charge.

“You’re one of the Lightwood’s children, aren’t you?” Victor asked. “Alexander, right? You look so much like your mother.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Alec replied dryly. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Well, Alexander-“

“Alec,” he cut the man off. He hated hearing his full name from the man. His parents could use it, they had named him after all, but even they didn’t. The only person he wanted to hear it from was Magnus, he had such a wonderful way of rolling the syllables off his tongue. “Everyone calls me Alec.”

“Alec, then,” Victor gave a friendly smile. “I have my orders from the Clave.” The smile slipped off, and worry replaced it. “This Institute has had its fair share of problems as of late. With the rise of Valentine, and an attack on the Institute itself. Terrible.”

“None of that was my mother’s fault,” Alec argued.

“Of course not,” Victor said. “That’s not at all what I’m saying.” He sighed. “After the events of tonight, the Clave wants fresh eyes. It’s not personal, Alec. You’re one of the Interim heads on the roster, correct?”

Alec’s jaw tightened to the point where the muscle jumped. “Yes, sir.”

“Then might you be able to tell me where the Mortal Cup is stored?”

His body felt too hot all over. Nothing good could come of this. “It was located in my mother’s lock box.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “Was?”

Alec shifted slightly, and pointed to the box. “It appears that Valentine’s men were targeting her. They used her stele to open the box.”

“You saw this?” Victor asked.

“No.”

“Then how do you know?” Victor tilted his head just slightly.

Alec straightened out. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Or your mother was working for Valentine, as she once did, and then they tried to kill her to tie up loose ends.”

“My mother is not working for Valentine,” Alec snapped, his hands clenching into fists, and he could feel the pain shift down his injured hand. He’d done real damage to something in that wrist, it throbbed when his hand clenched.

“How do you know?” Victor asked.

Alec wanted to have a real answer. Words stuck in his throat. He couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t find a way to build an argument in her favour.

“I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you, and your family,” Victor said. “But this is for the best.” His eyes shifted from Alec to Jace. “And you must be Jace… most recently, Herondale.”

Jace shifted slightly in his stance, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Yes, I’m Jace.”

“I admit, I don’t find the reports from your time with Valentine to be very… thorough.”   

“I wrote every detail,” Jace said, his eyes went from Victor to Imogen. “I’ve given you everything.”

“But how truthful was the account?” Victor asked. “Or perhaps you’ve repressed memories.”

Jace rolled his eyes. “It’s truthful. I haven’t forgotten a moment.”

“Good,” Victor replied. Then it will be easy for you to go under the Mortal Sword.”

Jace blanched. “Excuse me?”

“You were raised by Valentine. You were with him for-“

“You can’t be serious!” Isabelle nearly exploded with her rage. “He hasn’t done anything! He went with Valentine to save the rest of us!”

“Enough Isabelle,” Alec snapped, his hand on her shoulder until she pushed his hand away.

Her glare cut through him, her lip curling to show teeth. “You can’t seriously think that Jace, _your parabatai,_ should be put to the Sword?”

“Do I think it’s a waste of time, of course,” Alec said calm. “But as you mentioned that he is _my parabatai_ I know that he has nothing to hide.”

“Alec!”

“The law is hard, Iz, but it’s the law.” Alec hated it. The words tasted foul on his tongue, but he swallowed his own anger. He couldn’t fight what was absolute, and he couldn’t do anything if he were sequestered with Jace.

“Unbelievable!”

“Go check on the family, Isabelle,” Alec said, eyes narrowing. “Now.”

She turned away from him, and stormed past Victor, Imogen, and the Clave members. Alec let out a small sigh, at least getting the hot-head out of the room before she could say something to get them into even more trouble.

Victor turned to Clary. “And you’re Clarissa, aren’t you?”

“Clary,” Alec said. “And she’s supposed to be meeting her mother right now.”

Clary looked at him questioningly, before nodding. “I should be on my way.”

The two Clave members with Victor stepped forward. “I’m sorry, Clary,” Victor said, shaking his head. “Valentine’s daughter emerges after eighteen years, we need to question you. Your mother too.”

“What, do you have a list?” Alec asked, starting to lose his grip on his cool façade.

“I do, and everyone is on it,” Victor replied apologetically. “Obviously, those closest to Valentine must be the first assessed. If nothing is found, they’ll be returned to their duties. The law is the law, and all that.”

Victor’s eyes locked onto Magnus. “And you must be the High Warlock I’ve heard so much about.”

“What can I say, I’m worth telling stories about,” Magnus replied dryly.

“And you were here during the attack?” Victor asked.

“I asked the High Warlock for his services when we fell under attack,” Alec said before Magnus could speak. “He helped me hold the Training room and saved my life. Once we clear his tab, he’ll be on his way.”

Victor sighed. “I’m afraid he’ll need to be extensively questioned. We must know the absolute truth of what happened tonight.”

“And I can tell you,” Alec said evenly. “He never left my sight the entire night.”

“After hearing about your,” Victor paused, searching for the right word, “aborted wedding, Alec, and the reason behind I can’t really take your word when it comes to Magnus Bane, can I?”

“Then put me to the Sword,” Alec said as if he were asking what they were having for dinner, rather than having a dangerous angelic relic dangle above his head and either give the Silent Brother’s the truth, or kill him.

“Noble,” Victor said, with a nod. “Very noble. He will come with us, and if you speak the truth, he will be released.”

Alec turned just slightly to look at Magnus, who appeared shell-shocked. He turned back to Victor. “Of course, I’ll agree to it.”

“Excellent,” Victor clapped his hands together. He smiled at Imogen. “See, easy.”


	9. Chapter 9

Simon yawned, he checked his watch despite knowing that dawn had to be on the horizon. He rubbed tiredly at his eyes, and turned off the television. Áine had already fallen asleep on the couch, awkwardly sitting up, but torso curved over the arm of the plush gold. He turned to Raphael, who flipped the page of the book he read.

“Do you think I should wake her, or is that against Seelie code?” Simon asked.

Raphael continued reading to the end of the page before looking up. “If she fell asleep there, leave her.”

Simon looked from Raphael to Áine. “She looks really uncomfortable.”

“Her comfort isn’t my problem. Keeping her alive barely is.”

“It absolutely is if you want an alliance with the Seelies, and I assume you do, because you could have killed her days ago and been done with it.”

“I owe her my life. She healed me. Once she’s completely healed, my debt is clear, and I can kick her out with a clear conscious.”

Simon snorted. “Yeah, okay, keep telling yourself that.”

Raphael’s face-hardened. “Excuse me, Fledgling?”

In his exhaustion, Simon forgot the fact that he was speaking to a powerful vampire. “I’ve seen the way you look at her when you think neither of us are paying attention. Admit it, Raph, she’s growing on you.”

“One. Never call me Raph again.” Raphael snarled. “Two, I pay her attention because she is a Seelie in a house of Vampires. My clan is on edge enough, I don’t need her presence causing more problems. I am not interested in the fey as you were with your little red-headed Shadowhunter.”

At that Simon smiled. “I never said you were interested in her like that. I just said she was growing on you. Could have been simply platonic, but apparently not.”

Áine groaned. “The blood.” 

“What?” Simon asked.

Her body sat up, oddly, like a marionette on strings. “He can’t see in the dark.” Her eyes were lit gold. “The darkness swallows the light. The water drips down the bars. Screams are silent and taste like copper.”

Simon whipped his head to look at Raphael, who stared at Áine with a similar horrified expression to the one he was sure he wore. “What the shit, Raph?”

The golden glow to her eyes faded slowly, and she groaned putting her head in her hands.

Impatiently, Simon moved closer to Raphael with speed he hadn’t intended on using. “Seriously,” he whispered harshly. “What the hell just happened?”

“Some seelies have visions,” Raphael said slowly, clearly trying to figure out what he had just witnessed. “There are those who drink from Lake Lyn believing it will give them truer visions.”

“Do you have anything here to drink?” she asked, standing, and swaying a moment. “The higher the alcoholic content the better.”

“I always thought seelies needed to take potions to evoke visions,” Raphael said, rounding the bar to find a dusty bottle of scotch.

“In most cases it’s true,” Áine replied. “In fact, I’ve never had one without taking something.”

“Why now?” Raphael asked.

“The ascension must have something to do with it,” she replied, opening the bottle and taking a swig from it before Raphael could even offer her a shot glass. “Even then, I’m no good with visions. The future is so vague, and constantly shifting. It’s a useless gift.”

“Your eyes glowed,” Simon said with a mix of awe, and fear.

She smirked. “I am supposedly dead, and my people still hold me in higher regard than their current queen.” She took another long drink from the bottle, and offered it to Raphael. “Can you even drink this stuff?”

“No,” Raphael replied with a frown.

“Pity,” she replied, helping herself to another pull from the bottle.

“What was the vision?” Simon asked, fidgeting with nervous energy. “Sounded like bad news.”

She merely raised an eyebrow. “Once I had a vision of a cabin in the glades catching fire. That was two hundred years ago and it still stands.” She scoffed. “I doubt this one will come to pass.”

“You were talking about blood and darkness, it sounded horrible,” Simon said with a frown. With everything he’d been through lately, the seelie’s vision left him with a terrible feeling in his gut. “Maybe we should be worried about it.”

“It was vague,” she replied, with a graceful wave of her hand. “I tasted blood, heard water dropping. Could barely see bars- like a prison cell. Everything hurt.” She shook her head, and her long hair swayed. “However, I cannot tell who the vision pertains to. Someone I have met, they are always about people you know.” She sighed, and looked a little bitter. “Most people I know are seelies, we’re immortal, it could be someone from a card game six hundred years ago for all I know.” She shrugged before taking another sip of the scotch. “Visions are an annoyance, they offer nothing concrete. I sincerely hope not to have one again.”

“You’re rather straight-forward for a seelie,” Raphael noted quietly, straightening out the paperwork he’d been dealing with for the better part of the past few hours.

She peered down at the bottle, her nail tracing around the label. “I could talk you around in circles if it pleased me, but if one moves in circles they never make progress.” She glanced up at Raphael under her pale fan of lashes. “I am too old to continue going round and round.”

Simon heard the sound of lightsabers slashing- his text-tone, and pulled his phone from his pocket.

**FROM: [IZZY]**

**[05:45] Institute attacked. Clave here.**

**Lockdown. Mom injured.**

**[05:45] Alec Jace Clary Jocelyn**

**takn 4 questioning.**

**[05:46] I am really worried, Si.**

Simon stared at the text messages from Isabelle, messages that came in quick succession. Although he felt like he already knew the answer, he sent a question back in reply.

**TO: [IZZY]**

**[05:46] are you ok? Who attacked?**

He bit his bottom lip waiting for the reply, it didn’t take long before his phone made lightsaber noises again.

**FROM: [IZZY]**

**[05:46] I’m okay.**

**VALENTINE.**

_Shit,_ Simon’s fingers hovered over the keys. What did one say to that? He worried about Clary, and Jocelyn the most now that he knew Isabelle was unharmed. What questions did the Clave have? They couldn’t really think the group had anything to do with the attack. Another swooshing sound as the next text message came in.

**FROM: [IZZY]**

**[05:47] He has the cup.**

“No,” he found the word whispered in pure horror. The warmth he felt rolling off of her body was the only warning he had of Áine standing closer, reading the text over his shoulder.

“Valentine has the cup,” she hissed in wide-eyed horror.

Simon tried to keep the phone in his hand, but Raphael snatched it away before he could clench his fingers. “Give it back!” he shouted, reaching for it.

Instead, Raphael read the messages with a scowl. “This is bad.”

“Understatement of the year,” Simon snarled, grabbing his phone and clutching it to his chest. It felt like a lifeline, something to keep him tethered to Isabelle, and information coming out of the Institute.

Áine grabbed the bottle again. “This does not bode well.”

“I need to address the clan,” Raphael muttered.

“No. This is information Isabelle sent to me,” Simon argued. “In a private message. I’m sure she didn’t intend on you both seeing it.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that we did, in fact, see it,” Raphael replied. “I have to ensure the safety of our people.”

“And I must see to the safety of mine,” Áine said. She chugged the scotch like it was water. The bottle hit the counter with a slight clang.

“You’re dead,” Raphael pointed out, not unkindly.

She smirked. “No, technically speaking, you both are.” Fingers pointed at both Raphael and Simon. “I’m very much alive.” The smile fell away. “I need to know what is going on in court. I need my people to know I am alive if I have any hope of fully ascending.”

“You’re still too weak,” Raphael said, pulling the bottle of alcohol away from her. “You’d be an easy target.”

“I’m well aware,” she said with a huff of annoyance. “I have some contacts that I trust.”

Raphael raised a brow. “You’re literally putting your life in their hands. That could end badly for you.”

She shrugged. “Then you can say, ‘I told you so” at my funeral.” Fingers threaded through her hair as she pushed the long strands back. “The fight on that ship was only a prelude to the war that is coming. I need to be in command of the Seelies here. I do not trust the Queen to do what needs to be done.”

“You really think the queen would side with Valentine?” Simon asked. He didn’t like the sound of the man with the cup, an army of shadowhunters, demons, and seelies. It sounded a lot like a losing battle.

Áine frowned, a thumb brushing over her lips in thought. “She’d remain on the fence for as long as possible, waiting for a clear winner. She would want to be on the winning side. Valentine could possibly buy her loyalty with something she desires. I just… I want to say no queen would side with such a man, but I can not say it with any certainty.”

“You should wait for dusk,” Simon suggested. “I could come with you.”

Her lips twitched, then curved into a fond smile, her forest green eyes looked kindly upon him. “That is a very sweet offer, Simon.” It had taken him three whole days to get her to drop his last name when addressing him, but it seemed to have finally stuck. “However, where your kind wither in the light, my kind bask in it. It will be good to get out again in the light. Besides, I have faith there are still those I can trust in the court.”

Simon tried to find another solution. With half of his friends sequestered, and Isabelle under lock down it didn’t leave many options. “Luke!” He practically shouted, and felt stupid when he didn’t think of the man immediately. “Luke could go with you.”

She raised a brow. “Luke Garroway, the Alpha of the local werewolf pack? He was excellent in the battle against Valentine. A true warrior.” She considered a moment, before nodding. “Call him. I suppose one can not be too careful.”

::

Already exhausted from the fight at the New York Institute, Luke stood outside of the Hotel Dumort just after dawn. The rising sun made him feel secure around the Vampire’s hideout. The coffee he’d picked up on his drive over kept his hands warm despite the crisp cool air. Caffeine hit his system, it wasn’t a stamina rune, but it would have to do.

He stood a little straighter when the door opened and the former Commander stepped out. The clothes were not her own. The quirky t-shirt looked like something he’d seen Simon wear, the sweatpants were tightly drawn at her hips, beat up red sneakers, and a dark warm hoodie completed the strange outfit. Her long hair was braided and twisted into a bun. She frowned as he stared. “Yes, I know, the outfit is atrocious.”

Luke grinned. “It does look a little odd.” However, he held out his left hand, and the second coffee cup. “I’m not even sure if you drink this stuff.”

She took the offered drink, and sniffed through the small hole in the lid. Finding the aroma pleasing, she took a small sip, and made a pleased humming sound. “Lovely. Thank you, Luke Garroway.”

“Please, just Luke,” he insisted. “I parked my truck down the street, it’s not a long walk.”

She nodded, and fell into easy stride with him, despite him having a few inches of extra height on her.

“So, where are we headed?” Luke asked.

“There is a bakery, I’ll give you directions,” she said, “It’s run by a very old friend. There, I will be able to send word to others.”

“Are you strong enough for the fight that might come?” Luke asked as they reached the truck.

“That depends on how many of my people I can pull to my side,” she replied. “This will be over very quickly if I put my trust in the wrong people. That is why I agreed to have you join me. That, and I need to prove I want peace, that this is what the Shadow World needs, alliances between all fractions.”

She grabbed his arm before he could open the truck door. “Thank you, Luke. You didn’t have to agree to this, but you did.”

“I want the same thing you do,” Luke replied. “Peace between the fractions.” He thought of Jocelyn and Clary, shadowhunters. He thought of Simon, a vampire. Peace wasn’t a want so much as a need.

She smiled sweetly. “Good. Now, let us go to the bakery. We have work to do.”

::

Alec, Magnus, Jace, Clary, and Jocelyn sat in the carriage. Briefly, Jace had explained to Clary that this was the way the Silent Brother’s got around. Victor sat up front with Brother Ezekiel. He had nothing to worry about, after all. The shadowhunters all had the bind to rune drawn on their wrists, handcuffs of fire ensured they wouldn’t be escaping. As for the warlock, before they’d gotten in the carriage, Victor had made it very clear that anything the warlock did would be a punishment upon Alec.

“I’m sorry about this, Clary,” Jocelyn whispered.  

“You didn’t do anything,” Clary replied, leaning back on the plush seats, tucked between her mom, and Jace.

“I’m your mother, I should have protected you from this,” Jocelyn’s hand clenched into fists. “All of this.”

“Oh, just continued to lie to me,” Clary snapped irritably. Her fear, and anger swirled in a vicious mixture. “I’m a shadowhunter. Like it or not, I’m Valentine’s daughter. My problems are not going anywhere.”

Jocelyn blanched, but nodded, and silently looked out the window.

“Clary, calm down,” Alec said evenly. “You’re not helping the situation. And Jocelyn, Clary is right, none of this is your fault. Stop blaming yourself for being put into an impossible situation. You made the best of it.” Everyone stared, a mix of shock, and awe at the fact that Alec had been the one to say it. He shrugged. “Clary, you’ve faced the sword before. What should we expect?”

“To have your mind invaded, that alone was enough to make me feel sick,” she looked at her bound hands. “The pain was like thousands of little cuts, but once it’s over, the pain leaves quickly.”

Of course, what went without saying is that there were those who could not stand up to the Swords tremendous power and it could kill them. “So, we tell the truth, we let them rifle through our memories until they are satisfied, none of us are strangers to pain,” Alec said calmly, stretching out a long leg to nudge his wound-too-tight parabatai. “We’re all going to be fine. The Silent Brother’s will clear this mess up, and Aldertree will have no choice but to let us go.”

Clary managed a forced smile. “Who knew Alec ‘I don’t approve of this’ Lightwood would be giving a pep talk.”

“Well, for the record, I don’t approve of this either,” Alec said with a cheeky grin, and some of the tension bled out of the carriage. He reached carefully, ensuring his wrists remained close enough to not burn himself. His fingers brushed against Magnus’s. The warlock frowned, and cast a worried glance at his Nephilim. “We’re going to be fine.”

“You’ll be under the Sword because of me,” Magnus whispered.

“I’ll be fine,” Alec whispered. “I have nothing to hide.”

Magnus bit his bottom lip, but nodded. “Of course you will, Darling.”  


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is about to get dark.   
> Sorry.

The Institute had become a gilded cage, and Isabelle paced like an animal. She’d traded her array of gorgeous dresses, crop tops, stylish skirts, and heels for a t-shirt, jeans, and combat boots. Like this, she looked more like her brother than ever. It didn’t help that she wore an absolutely murderous expression.

The people in her life were disappearing like sand through her fingertips. Half of them were being ‘questioned,’ somewhere away from the Institute. Her mother, unconscious but alive, remained in the Infirmary. Her father stayed by her side, and there was something in the way he looked at her that left an odd feeling in her gut. Max was too little to really understand, and he spent his time either training, or practicing runes so that ‘mom will be proud when she wakes up.’ Those words from the mouth of her little brother haunted her. It sounded like something Alec would have said at that age, and look how he turned out; a fine man for sure, but one who desperately needed his parents approval, and would run himself into the ground to achieve it.

“Izzy,” the quiet call of her name gave her pause. Lydia stood in the doorway of her bedroom, without waiting for permission; she stepped over the threshold and shut the door behind herself.

“Did you find anything out?” she asked the Clave’s envoy.

“Not much, not until I spoke to the Inquisitor,” Lydia replied stepping closer, her voice lowered to a whisper. Even though they were alone, in the privacy of Isabelle’s room, she still used caution. “Silent City.”

All the breath left Isabelle’s lungs. She trembled, and shook her head. “No, no, they can’t just…”

“They can, and they will.” Lydia sighed. “Maybe this is best. They won’t be able to deny the truth when it comes out under the Sword.”

“This isn’t right,” Isabelle whispered, hugging herself.

“I agree,” Lydia said with a nod.

Isabelle turned away and walked to the window, she stared down at the street. How she wanted to be out there, to be able to do something rather than being a ball of nerves. “Do you think…” she stopped, shook her head. It wouldn’t do any good to voice her concerns.

“What is it?” Lydia asked, joining her, leaning her shoulder against the window frame.

 _Do you think the Council is corrupt, too corrupt?_ But she didn’t dare ask. Lydia a loyal member of the Clave. No, she didn’t agree with all the decisions, and the woman had stood up to the Inquisitor in the end for Isabelle, but at the end of the day Lydia believed in ‘the law is the law.’

“Do you think Imogen is giving information to you because Jace is her grandson?” she asked instead.

The question clearly gave Lydia pause, and the blonde quietly considered the possibility. “Probably. I’m not her favourite person, but she told me where they were being taken.” She bit her lip. “She didn’t appear pleased with the decision.”

“Could she overrule it?” Isabelle asked.

“No. Victor Aldertree isn’t just the newly appointed Institute head,” Lydia muttered with a little anger simmering in her voice. “He’s also the newly appointed Inquisitor. Voted in only a few days ago. Word isn’t even out to all shadowhunters yet.”

“What!”

Lydia sighed. “A vote of no-confidence went in against Imogen. They decided she was too distracted. With everything that has happened, and Jace being her grandson, there are major conflicts of interest here. They decided that she was ‘losing her touch.’”

Although she felt like she would spontaneously combust, Isabelle bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood, but she held it together. “Thank you for telling me,” she managed to speak through her clenched teeth.

The two women stood there for a moment; Lydia quiet and contemplative, Isabelle silent fury and vengeful.

“Imogen said something else,” Lydia whispered. “She said she didn’t trust Aldertree.”

“Do you?” Isabelle asked, looking at the blonde and raising a brow.

Lydia remained quiet for a long while. “I have no reason not to. Do you?”

“I just have a bad feeling,” Isabelle replied. “What he said, how he said it, everything put me on edge-“

“You don’t like your family in danger, I get it Izzy, but he’s just doing his job. Everything is a mess right now. Valentine is back. Aldertree’s just trying to make sense of it all, we all are. Especially after the attack last night,” Lydia reasoned. “We have to figure out how to stop Valentine, and his followers. He’ll question them, know the truth, and they’ll be back in a few days tops.”

“I really hope you’re right,” Isabelle replied. “I’m going to go check on Mom. I’ll see you around.”

::

The lovely scent of the muffins, scones, and coffee wafted out the open bakery door. Luke’s stomach growled, and Áine shot him a humoured grin. It was odd, meeting a Seelie with a seemingly normal sense of humour. Together they walked into the empty shop, and the faerie tapped on the bell by the cash register. Luke took the moment to glance at the glass case, the treats were surprisingly normal, and not a single fey pastry in sight.

After a minute, a short woman stepped out from the back room. Her glamour dropped in pure shock when her eyes met Áine’s. Her skin paled without the glamour, there seemed to be flecks of glitter in it. Her eyes went from a plain caramel brown to a strange mix of unnaturally bright orange with flecks of yellow. Her hair a deep, dark auburn, with streaks of gold. She had bits of some kind of grey-green birthmark or tattoo that disappeared under her t-shirt.

“I look pretty good for someone who is supposed to be dead, don’t I?” Áine said in jest.

The strange eyes grazed over Áine, and then the glamour returned. Brown eyes, brown hair, light tan, her face even reconstructed just slightly to be less stunning. “Not really. You look a little sickly,” the baker swiped at her cheekbone, leaving a streak of flour. “Not to mention what are you wearing?”

Áine burst into a laugh and shook her head. “Murielle, this is Luke. Luke, this is Murielle.”

Murielle looked the man over. “You look like you could use a scone. I’ll bring you two out breakfast.”

“Luke, grab a seat,” Áine said, she waited until he left to find a spot near the window. Even so, with his wolf senses, he could still hear her perfectly fine. Though he stared out the window, he actually paid more attention to the faint reflection of the bakery in the glass. She turned to Murielle. “I need you to contact these people,” she passed over a piece of folded up paper. “I need them to meet me here.”

Murielle’s dainty fingers grabbed the note, she glanced at it, a frown etching deeply onto her face. “Trusting,” she whispered, raising a brow.

“I saved your son’s life, I trust you not to stab me in the back now,” Áine replied.

The brunette nodded “Very well. Take a seat, I’ll contact them and plate up breakfast for you and your… friend.”

::

Aldertree escorted the group through Silent City, deep into the underground, and down into the cells. “I’m afraid you all must stay down here while we question everyone individually. We can’t have you all running amok in the City.” He walked past the first cell, and onto the second. “Warlock,” was all he said, opening the door.

Magnus frowned, and glanced at Alec who nodded. “It’s going to be okay,” Alec whispered. Magnus stood a little straighter, and walked into the cell. He crossed his arms over his chest as the door slammed shut.

Across from Magnus, Jace was locked in, and awkwardly stuck his hands through the bars for Aldertree to remove the flaming handcuffs, which he did with quick proficiency. Beside Jace, Jocelyn, and across from her, Clary. Once they were all settled and unlocked, Aldertree turned to Alec. “You’ll be first.”

Alec’s stood straight, his full height put him at least four inches over Aldertree, and it gave him some sense of power. “Fine,” Alec replied, his wrists starting to burn at the extended use of the rune. At some point, Brother Ezekiel had returned to the other Silent Brothers- likely to prepare everything, to be ready for those of them who would be speaking under the sword. Alec’s stomach turned, and he clenched his hands into fists to keep his fingers from trembling.

As Aldertree lead him away, he snuck a glance at his companions. Jocelyn sat on the small wood cot, her head in her hands. Clary had her hands wrapped around the bars, her eyes wide and fearful, but she managed to put on some kind of smile- appearing to try and put on a brave face for him. Jace paced like an animal, but paused when he walked by, the bond was strong and their hearts synced. After all, this was a battle even if it was one of the heart and mind. Alec hoped that when he went under the sword, his parabatai wouldn’t feel it. Then, finally, Magnus. Magnus who stood caged only because he had saved his life. The Warlock reached through the bars, and Alec risked turning to him, grabbing his hand, pulling him closer and kissed him through the space in the bars. Alec whispered, “I lo-“ only to be jerked away by Aldertree’s hand on the back of his shirt.

He stumbled when Aldertree roughly shoved him ahead.  “Move!”

Alec looked over his shoulder but could barely make out Magnus’s face in the torch light.

::

Sitting by the window, Luke saw Áine’s companions approaching. Three seelies, Meliorn, and two others he didn’t know.  He nodded in their direction and Áine turned in her seat. A smile graced her face, and she stood to greet them.

Meliorn stepped in first, and looked her over. “Who did you tether yourself to?”

“None of your business,” Áine replied.  

“It absolutely is.” Meliorn’s lip curled. “Was it the werewolf? If so your years are extremely limited.”

“Again, Meliorn,” she frowned. “Not your concern.”

Luke was surprised that Áine spoke defensively. These were her most trusted allies, and yet she hid what even he knew. Perhaps, her ‘most trusted allies’ weren’t so trusted after all.

“Meliorn, I adore you, but shut up,” the woman stepped forward. Luke looked her over, her ears were slightly pointed, eyes a soft blue, as her skin pale as many Seelies were, long blonde hair fell in ringlets. She looked up at Áine. “Why didn’t you write sooner? I grieved for you. “

“It would have been too dangerous. And the Queen needed to believe I had died and remained dead,” Áine replied, her hand slipped into the curls, and pulled the woman closer. “Don’t be angry with me, Cara, you know I’m right.”

Luke wouldn’t say he was surprised to discover Áine had a lover? Girlfriend? Perhaps he read too deeply, and they weren’t more than close friends. The second Cara stood on her toes to press a desperate kiss to Áine’s lips, the thought died. Áine held the woman as though she feared she never would again, fingers clutching at the fabric of the woman’s long coat. They didn’t part until Meliorn cleared his throat loudly.

Áine then turned to the third man. He towered in the room, overly tall even though his shoulders were drawn down, like he tried to make himself smaller. Long dark hair hid a large portion of his face. His clothes were all black, odd for a Seelie. “Niv,” she whispered, her voice soft and full of compassion. “I’m sorry, Darling. I wished to reach out, but I simply couldn’t without putting myself in danger.”

“I understand,” Niv replied.

She reached out, slow, her fingertips touching his hand. When he didn’t move, she threaded their fingers together. “I am ascending.”

“That explains a lot,” Meliorn said, for the first time he glanced over at Luke. “However, it doesn’t explain your dog.”

“A dog that once helped save your ass from meeting the Mortal Sword,” Luke said, smirking into his coffee. It was a small pleasure to have something to hold over the faerie knight’s head.

Meliorn groaned, clearly displeased at being reminded. He quickly redirected the conversation. “You’re ascending.”

“Yes,” Áine replied. “The Queen is losing power. I need to know what is happening in the realm.” Suddenly, Niv yanked her close, partially hiding her from view. “What?”

“I don’t like it here,” he said. “You have too many enemies. We should go somewhere where we can keep you safe.”

“Niv, relax.” Her hand ran up his arm, then slowly back down to his elbow. “I can keep myself safe, besides, I’ve also made powerful allies.” She gestured to Luke.

Luke, a former Shadowhunter, a werewolf, and a cop felt tension rise in the room, and understood there was something fundamentally wrong, yet he couldn’t quite place his finger on it. He tried to find it in Niv, the large man appeared gaunt, his eyes haunted, but he held Áine’s hand tightly, and Luke wondered if they were lovers too. Meliorn held a vague disinterest, surprising considering how close he and Áine were. Then there was Cara, flickers of emotion crossing her face, but she still did well to keep them hidden.

“Why is no one giving me answers?” Áine asked.

“The Queen has killed three people,” Cara said. “Cillian, Niamh, and Yaelish.”

“Why?” Áine sparked with outrage, her eyes flickering gold. “Why would she kill them?” She turned on Meliorn. “And why would you let her?”

“They were killed for their clear-cut allegiance to you,” Meliorn said coldly. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Help them!” Áine’s hand trembled. Luke stood, but remained away from the situation, well aware of how volatile Seelies could become. “Cillian might have been my lover, but he was a soldier in her honoured guard. Niamh spent all of her time in her garden, she wasn’t a threat. And Yaelish! What? He died simply because he brought me to the realm in the first place? He lived this many years, served many Queens, and died because he cared for me?”

“When we understood she was clearing out those with an allegiance to you, we realized we needed to go.” Cara said, glancing at Niv. “It’s too dangerous for us to return now.”

“Of course. You won’t be,” Áine said with finality. “Meliorn, what of you?”

“I’m duty bound to the Queen.” Meliorn frowned. “You know this.”

Áine’s iris’s overtook her pupils with gold. The look left Luke feeling chilled. “What goes on beyond her closed doors?”

“Nothing of interest,” Meliorn replied. He brushed his hand along the arm of his brown leather coat. “Perhaps though, what happens when she sends her guard away is more interesting.”

Áine frowned. “And what is that?”

“I wish I knew,” Meliorn said. “I don’t like it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “There is too much time where the Queen is left unattended.”

“I saw a man,” Niv said quietly, almost curving over Áine. “A man who went into the Queen’s chambers after she dismissed her guard.”

“What did he look like?” Luke asked with urgency.

Niv’s eyes flickered to Luke and stared a moment. His eyes such a dark blue they were nearly black, they were a little unnerving. He then turned to Áine, like he wanted her confirmation, she nodded, and only then did Niv speak. “Tall, fair of hair. He bore runes.”

“Around my age?” Luke asked, a sick feeling growing in his stomach.

“No,” Niv replied. “Young. Early twenties perhaps.”

Luke couldn’t imagine a young Shadowhunter having clandestine meetings with the Queen. Still, he felt as though he had yet another piece of the puzzle that would come together soon enough.

“I need to return,” Meliorn said. “I’ve been gone too long as it is.”

“You’ve served me,” Áine said. “She could kill you for that. As she has the others.”

Meliorn shrugged. “I have little choice in the matter. I will speak of seeing you, it will spread like wild-fire through the realm. Our people need to know there is a choice.”

Áine visibly softened, her shoulders relaxing, and the gold in her eyes edged away. Her pupils returned, and slowly, gold only appeared in small flecks among her natural deep green irises. “She won’t be happy.”

“No, she won’t.” With that, Meliorn walked away.

With her hand still interlaced with Niv’s, she reached out and pulled Cara into her chest, kissing the top of her head. It was a little peculiar to see the trio, something off about it all. Perhaps because Luke still had suspicions about the two and worried about how trustworthy they could be. Or maybe it was Cara in her finery the cobalt blue dress peeking out from her grey wool coat with golden buttons, Niv with his oddly morose nature- uncommon in Seelies, and then Áine who appeared to have dressed in the dark, the three of them looking like puzzle pieces from completely different pictures.

“Where are you staying?” Cara asked Áine.

“I’m not sure,” Áine said. “I do believe asking for two guests might be pushing my luck.”

“I know where you can stay,” Luke said. “It’s not the Ritz, but I can see it secured.”

Áine’s gaze burned a second, the gold flickering. She smiled. “Thank you, Luke Garroway.”

::

The catacombs were frigid, and Alec wished for a heat rune. Aldertree kept pushing him forward, the way lit by witchlight. His stomach twisted, and he felt sick. The thought alone of being put to the sword, of having his inner most thoughts sorted through by the Silent Brothers left him with crippling anxiety. Just what would the Brother’s see? Just what they were looking for? Or did the memories flow like thoughts, one train leading onto another- not necessarily in order.

What if they found out about his ridiculous crush on his Parabatai from long ago? What if they saw his private mornings with Magnus, the soft whispers, and gentle kisses? They had no right to know of his struggle with his sexuality. They didn’t need to know the arguments with his parents. He didn’t even have the sword over his head yet, but even the thought of the invasion of his privacy left him angry, vulnerable, and distraught. These memories were his, and he didn’t want to share them.

He had little choice in the matter though. Especially if he wanted to keep Magnus safe. Although it didn’t sit well, he would do as was expected of him, like he always did. The law is hard, but it is the law. He, a Shadowhunter, served the Clave. This is their law, and he would prove himself- and Magnus, of any wrong-doing, and then he could get back to hunting Valentine, and the Mortal Cup.

The sound of water dripping echoed in the silent hall. The dark was all consuming, even the witchlight barely illuminated a few feet ahead. Deep down, Alec felt a wrongness to his very core. “Where are the Silent Brother’s?”

“Keep moving, Lightwood,” Aldertree barked, pushing him forward once again.

Alec startled, jumping back a step as the glow of the witchlight outlined a figure standing against the wall. The tension lessened, the familiar robes were those of a Silent Brother. He waved a pail white hand, motioning for them to follow. Alec had expected instructions, the deep rumble of words to float through his brain, but the silence of the brother continued as they made their way into a room.

The barred door shut behind them with a heavy clang, and he heard the metallic screech of an old rusted lock sliding into place.

“What is this?” he shouted. A wooden table sat in the middle of the room. And were those restraints? He swallowed hard, the momentary silence broken only by the dripping water. “Take me to the sword!”

“Oh, Alexander Lightwood,” Aldertree’s voice slipped into a low taunt. “You don’t deserve the sword.”

At that the witchlight was snuffed, and he felt the burn of a stele against the back of his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, so sorry.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... still sorry.

In the cold cell, Magnus stood, his forearms resting against the horizontal bars. The pacing footsteps echoed in the long room. Jace could only walk four steps in either direction, but he continued regardless. While the pacing annoyed Magnus to some degree, he said nothing. If that was how Jace dealt with the situation, so be it.

A solid wall separated him from Clary, but he could see her hands wrapped around the bars. Every so often she’d give them a testing shake, as if she expected the lock to suddenly come undone.

Diagonally across from him, he could see Jocelyn, she hadn’t moved since she sat down on the cot, her head still in her hands. He could see the subtle white marks of old scars left both from battle and old runes, they glinted in the torchlight.

It was near impossible to tell time in the darkness, but Magnus at least had Jace’s ridiculous pacing to keep some semblance of time. What else did he have to do but to count the steps, measure the pacing, the timing, and calculate?

“It’s been over an hour,” Magnus said, relatively sure. “How long were you under the sword, Biscuit?”

“It felt like forever,” Clary said softly. The words reviving her mother, as Jocelyn finally lifted her face from her hands.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Jocelyn said. “You shouldn’t have had to.”

“I had to find you,” Clary said. “If one of my memories could help… I had to try.” She tried to rattle the door again, and he saw her hair as he heard her forehead hit the bar lightly. “I don’t know how long I was actually under the sword. Time is different when it’s happening. It feels like ages, and at the same time, like seconds.”

Jace finally stopped pacing, his boot smashing against where the large lock panel was on his cell. “It was five minutes, ten tops when you were under the sword,” he said angrily. Magnus stared at him and could actually see Jace try to calm himself. His eyes shut as his chest rose while he inhaled deeply, and then blew it out slow. He appeared calmer as he returned to the cell door and looked over at Clary. “They’re being through. We knew they would be. It’s going to be okay, Clary.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He heard her sigh, but he also heard the doubt.

“You should try to get some sleep,” Jace recommended. “I doubt that the Silent Brothers will have us all tried one right after another. This kind of ritual must be taxing. It’s probably why we haven’t heard anything yet. Alec’s probably just being held until they speak with Magnus.”

“I doubt I could actually sleep here,” Clary said, but he could hear the exhaustion in her voice.

“Just try,” Jocelyn advised. “You’ll need your strength.” Although Jace wouldn’t be able to see it, Magnus saw the way she turned her face toward Jace’s cell. “We all will.”

They were all exhausted. While Magnus’s magic had mildly replenished, he feared so much as warming his hands with it in Silent City- especially while Alec had an angelic relic held over his head. Aldertree had made it clear, any transgression on his part would be direct punishment to Alec. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. And it didn’t feel like something within the Shadowhunter’s law.

While Jace sat on the wooden cot, he stared over at Clary’s cell, and didn’t appear to even attempt to sleep. Instead, a silence settled over them. Without Jace’s pacing, Magnus had no way of telling how long it went on.

“Clary?” Jace said softly. When she didn’t answer, he risked speaking her name just slightly louder. When she still didn’t reply, he stood. “Jocelyn?”

“I’m still awake,” she said quietly. “What is it that you didn’t want Clary to hear?”

“When Alec and I were reunited, after that entire thing with Valentine,” Jace paused, swallowing hard. He stood, and as he came closer to the bars, Magnus could see the sheen of sweat on his face despite the cold temperature. “Our Parabatai bond that was so close to breaking became strong again. Stronger than it ever have been, even when we said our oaths, and marked each other with the runes, even in that moment it wasn’t as strong as it is now.”

Jace’s fist pressed on his Parabatai rune. “I’ve been feeling his watered down emotions ever since. Which that is an ability that wore off hours after we first marked each other. Since we were reunited, our bond has been _different_. I can’t explain it. It’s more powerful than it should be. But these emotions, I don’t feel them the same, I can always tell they’re not mine.” He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Something is very wrong. I can feel pain. A lot of pain. There is nothing wrong with me, this pain isn’t mine. It’s Alec’s. The bond isn’t supposed to work this way. We’re not supposed to share pain. But, if this is like emotions, and this is only the watered down version.” He licked his chapped lips, and leaned against the bars like they were the only thing that could keep him upright. “Then… then Alec is in absolute agony.”

“Is it because of the sword?” Magnus asked, his magic raging like an inferno inside of him. It pressed against his skin with the desire to be set free.

“I don’t know,” Jace said. “I’ve never been under the sword.”

“How long has this been going on?” Magnus demanded.

“Soon after he was taken it started. At first, it wasn’t so bad, but it’s steadily getting worse,” Jace admitted. “I’m worried about him.”

“It shouldn’t take this long,” Jocelyn said. “I’ve known people who’ve been under the sword. Like with Clary, it’s not a particularly long process. The Brothers know how to search to save time. It’s too much pressure to be under the sword for a long period of time. It could kill the person being questioned. It must be quick. A few minutes at most. If this has been going on for over an hour-“ she cut herself off, and frowned. “I should have known you were only pretending to sleep.”

Clary’s footsteps echoed and she kicked at her door again. “We have to get Alec out of there.” The intensity in her voice startled him. Although Alec and Clary had a better relationship now than when they’d first met, it was a little hard to believe how far they’d come to becoming friends. Of course, she could also be enraged due to how this affected Jace. Still, something in the tone had Magnus believing the former.

“And what about Aldertree?” Jocelyn said, readjusting her ponytail. “What about the Clave?”

“Who cares!” Clary shot back. “You said so yourself, holding someone under the sword for this long is too dangerous! And if the Clave takes Aldertree’s side, then there is something very wrong with this world.”

“Clary’s right,” Jace said. “Fuck Aldertree, and fuck the Clave. We’re getting out of here.”

“My word, you’ve never been so ineloquent,” Magnus said, even though the tightness in his chest was near suffocating. “However, I’m inclined to agree with you. Good thing you have a Warlock.”

“Shh!” Jace hissed, then pointed to the door.

They all heard it, the sound of footsteps. Still, Magnus clicked his fingers and blue flames ate at their locking mechanisms, four locks clicking at once. Everyone remained at their doors, but didn’t open them.

A groaning sound joined the footsteps, it sounded horribly ominous, like a soundtrack to a Halloween haunted house.

The door let loose a long wail as it slowly slid open.

The shuffling footsteps were joined by the sound of something heavy being dragged.

The robes of a Silent Brother fluttered as he stepped in.

The second thing they saw was the body hauled by the back of his shirt.

The hands and feet of the man dragged across the floor.

That man was the origin of the horrific, pained groans.

As the Silent Brother walked into the room, appearing unburdened by the weight, horror dawned on Magnus. That body was Alec. The Brother stopped between Jace and Magnus’s cell, and his hand suddenly opened. Alec’s torso fell, and he barely got one arm to move, to keep his face from hitting the ground. Another groan.

The Brother moved and yanked Alec up by the hair before anyone could do anything. The collar of his shirt so stretched and ripped, that it fell over his shoulder. Bruises and blood on display.

Ice settled in Magnus’s veins. “What have you done to him!” he roared. His stomach flipped in an awful sick sensation. He felt numb, like his blood had turned to ice, yet his magic pressed, hot with rage against his skin. He didn’t dare use it, not with the Stele pressed against a nearly finished rune on the back of Alec’s shoulder. Magnus recognized the rune, even it if wasn’t commonly used.

The Agony rune.

“Alec.” Jace whispered, nostrils flared. His eyes turned to the Silent Brother. “I will kill you.”

The Brother ignored Jace. “Warlock,” the voice spoke. Not in his head, but actually spoke. “Come out of that cell. We both know you’ve popped the locks.” He could hear the arrogance, and didn’t even need to see the man’s face to know he was smiling. “Come out. Slowly. I’ve already tested your boyfriends endurance with these things. I’m not entirely sure he can take another one.”

Magnus pushed the door, the closer he got, the better he could see what had been done to Alec. Bruises coloured his skin, and he tried telling himself that head wounds were always bleeders- that that didn’t necessarily mean Alec was in terrible shape. But it did. He was. Magnus felt sick. As his eyes caught something that glinted through the blood.

_That can’t be right._

_My eyes must be deceiving me._

_That can’t be._

_It can’t._

_No._

He dropped to his knees in front of Alec. “Darling,” he whispered softly, his hand gentle on Alec’s jaw, his thumb grazing over his chin, and Alec pulled back as much as he could pressing into Brother’s hand still in his hair. Magnus had still felt it though. The blood from what looked like a broken nose had coated over his mouth, had hidden the damage.

Wire had been sewn through his lips like he’d taken the vow of silence. His eyes widened, and his lips parted as much as they could around the wire, his words were nothing but a garbled mess, and by the time Magnus realized it was a warning, it was too late.

The brother was tackled in a burst of black and gold. Jace. He’d tried to stop Magnus from being collared, but unfortunately had been a second too late.

His hands reached up to touch the thick metal band. He felt the stone inlays, the hinge, the delicate carving work, and knew. His magic was still there, swirling within him, but inaccessible. The collars were Seelie in design, and were banned during the second signing of the Accords. Right after the Warlock-Seelie war that had waged on for nearly three hundred years. They were supposed to have been destroyed. Of course, convincing Seelie’s to do anything was near impossible.

He tugged at it, desperate to be free. They needed his magic. Alec needed his magic. It swirled, pressed, and when he tried to help Jace, tried to throw magic at their enemy only to have every nerve in his body feel like fire. It lasted only a few seconds but left him shocked, breathless, and trembling with aftershocks of pain.

Despite Jace being the fastest and most skilled fighter of their age, he still ended up thrown into the stone wall like he weighed nothing. Jace got back to his feet, and Clary and Jocelyn were both out of their cells.

Weaponless, magicless, they stood. The Brother’s hood had fallen back in the fight. Only, he wasn’t a Silent Brother. The pale man stood a little taller than Jace, his hair a fine white blond that so rarely ever saw someone to adulthood before turning sandy, his eyes dark and fathomless, a rune curved peeking out from the collar of the robes. He opened his mouth only to be met with Jace’s fist, and the two were back to fighting. Clary rushed by, and jumped onto the man’s back, but it seemed like he didn’t even notice the weight.

“Alexander,” Magnus whispered, grabbing him as he swayed. “We will get you out of here.”

Slowly, Alec shook his head. He tried to speak again, even though Magnus immediately tried to shush him. The skin reopened around his wounds and fresh blood coated the wires.

“Darling, don’t speak.”

Alec weakly pushed up the sleeve of Magnus’s shirt. He pressed his nail in hard, dragging it. The skin reddened as Alec appeared to spell. He only got three letters in before Magnus understood. “Valentine? Valentine is here.”

Instead, Alec continued, the both of them ignoring the fight. Three more letters. ‘S,’ ‘O,’ ‘N.’

If Magnus weren’t already chilled to the bone, that would have done it. Magnus raised his head just in time to see Jace knocked away again. The man threw himself backward, the wall hit Clary’s back and she gave a shout, before dropping to the ground. The man slammed his boot down on Jace’s chest.

“Nice try,” he said. He looked up with a smile, and a shy wave. “Hi, Mom.”

And in that moment, Jocelyn, who had been standing mutely watching, dropped to her knees. In all his long life, Magnus hadn’t ever seen someone look so terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More action than answers in this one, but they will come.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible at getting updates out on time- my bad.

The bell tinkled above the door of Garroway’s books. Luke led the way, Áine close behind, Niv towering over her, and Cara pulled the door shut, locking it behind them. “There are apartments upstairs. One of which is mine,” he explained as he led them through the shop. “The other I usually have a tenant in, but the last one was a student, I just finished getting the place fixed up and ready for rent again.”

“Thank you, Luke,” Áine said, touching his shoulder lightly.

They stopped in the cramped hall at the top of the stairs. He flipped though his keys until he found the appropriate one and unlocked the spare unit. “Here you go,” he gestured toward the open door. “I have four of my pack outside, they’ll make sure nothing comes in.”

Áine nodded sagely, then waved her companions inside. “I wish a private word with you, Luke.”

He tensed a little, but nodded. “Alright.”

She shut the door to the suite, then nodded toward the door of his. “Seelies have good hearing.” She smirked. “And Cara is prone to eavesdropping.”

“Hardly,” the faerie called out from the room.

“See what I mean,” Áine said.

Luke unlocked his own door. “Sorry, the place is a bit of a mess. I haven’t been home much lately.”

“I know the feeling,” she replied, a hint of sorrow in her voice.

He shut the door. “What is it you wanted to talk about?”

“A few things.” Her eyes lingered on a picture on the wall of Luke with Jocelyn, and Clary. She turned back to him. “I wish you to escort me back to the Hotel Dumort, at least, this is where I presume what is left of my belongings are located.”

“I can do that,” Luke agreed, sitting on the arm of the couch.

“Can you get me in contact with Isabelle Lightwood?”

“I don’t have her number,” Luke scratched at the stubble on his jawline. “Considering how frequently she hangs out with Clary, I suppose I should.” His arms crossed over his chest. “I can give her a call, and see if she’s returned from the Silent City.” His eyes narrowed, and Áine couldn’t tell he was trying to figure out her motives, or angry about his step-daughter’s questioning. Probably a bit of both. “Why Isabelle?”

“She’s brave, and an incredible fighter.” Áine looked around the apartment, a mess of books, a pile of bills, an empty beer bottle. The place smelled of lavender, which surprised her. Not a scent most would associate with a werewolf. The leather couch had a tear in the far cushion.

Luke cleared his throat. “And that’s all?”

She waved off the notion. “Of course she is much more.”

“I mean, that’s all she needs to be for you?”

Áine shrugged. “I try not to overcomplicate things.”

“And what do you need her for?”

“That will be between me and Isabelle.”

Luke glared a moment, but pulled out his phone. He frowned. “Clary isn’t answering.” He tried another number. “Neither is Joss.”

“Simon,” Áine prompted.

Luke nodded, and sent a text. He got an immediate response, and called the number. “Isabelle, someone wishes to speak to you.” He passed the phone over.

Áine took the phone, and pressed it to her ear. “One moment, Isabelle.” She looked at Luke, then pointed to the door.

“I’m a werewolf,” Luke argued. “I’d still hear you. Don’t you trust me?”

Áine blew out a breath. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Luke. It was that she figured he would highly disapprove. “Isabelle. I need you to run an errand.”

_“I can’t. I can’t leave the Institute. We’re on lockdown.”_

“Sneak out then.”

 _“I can’t!”_ Isabelle’s frustration nearly palpable through the line. _“The only reason I’m being left alone right now is that I’m visiting with my mother in the infirmary! There is always someone. I want to leave, but I can’t. All missions have been put on hold. There are no Shadowhunters working in New York. Not to mention there is no reason why the others should be gone for so long.”_

“Troublesome,” Áine whispered.

_“I wish I could help you.”_

“Perhaps we can help each other.”

_“I can’t do anything here.”_

“No. You can’t. Which is why I’m going to break you out.”

 _“How?”_ Isabelle asked.

Áine chewed on her bottom lip. “Not sure yet. I’ll get back to you, but be ready.”

_“Wait! Do you know anything about what’s going on in Silent City?”_

“I read Simon’s text messages,” she admitted freely. “But I know nothing more of the situation than what you’ve told me. Luke attempted to call Clary, but she is still unavailable.”

_“Aldertree hasn’t returned. None of them have.”_

Áine had the desire to offer comfort, but the lies stung her tongue. “I hope they return promptly.”

_“Get back to me on my jailbreak. Preferably before I lose my mind.”_

“I will do my best.” She hung up and passed the phone back to Luke. “The Shadowhunters are still on lockdown. Isabelle is being watched.”

Luke frowned. “Are you sure you can’t use anyone else for this ‘errand?’”

“No.” She didn’t elaborate. A part of her wanted to open up to Luke. Since she’d awoken, alive and untethered to a Queen she’d felt remarkably free. Still, he would try and talk Isabelle out of helping her- if only to protect the young, fiery woman. She couldn’t afford the risk.

He crossed his arms. “Breaking Isabelle out of the Institute during a lockdown is a terrible idea.”

“I figured you say something like that.”

“Well it is. She could be stripped of her runes,” Luke stood, and despite his towering body, Áine didn’t cower, didn’t step back. She felt no fear of him. “Think of the consequences.”

“I am. War is coming, whether you see it or not. I’ve been alive long enough to know.”

“The civil war of the Seelies does not involve the Shadowhunters.”

“And Valentine? He has the cup. The Shadowworld needs to unite in order to defeat him.” Her eyes narrowed. “For good this time. He succeeds because on the best of days, we don’t interfere with other fractions, and at worse we’re actively fighting.”

“He may have the cup, he may have a fragment of his old army-“

“He also can control demons with that cup,” she snapped. “And we know he has a warlock on his side. It seems to me like the Queen is waiting to see which way the tide turns, and Valentine may very well win her favour. You can’t pretend like this isn’t going to get bloody. War is coming. Are you going to fight? Or stand by idly, waiting for the world to burn?”

Luke’s hands balled into fists. “Do you wish to go to the Hotel now?”

Every muscle tight, and her shoulders burned. “Fine.”

“Good.” He strode past her and out the door.

Áine took a second to regain her focus, before following Luke out. Cara stood in the hallway, glancing at the stairs. A second later they heard the door to the bookstore slam shut.

“Don’t start lecturing me,” Áine warned her lover.

“You never listen anyway, but honey, Love, not vinegar.”

“I haven’t the time to sweet-talk people.”

“That is why you make a great commander,” Cara sighed. “But will it make you a great Queen?”

“The last thing I need is you doubting me.” She turned on her heel only to have Cara grab her arm and spin her back. “What?”

“Be careful.”

“Stay inside,” Áine shot back and hurried down the stairs.

::

Raphael led the way into the lower levels of the Hotel, Áine’s footsteps echoing in the stairwell. When she’d told him about her companions, and that she’d be staying with Luke, he’d felt both relief, and a strange sting of disappointment. As much as he grumbled about her, she seemed to be the only person who could entertain Simon and keep him from bothering the rest of the Clan by simply existing. Not only that, but as far as allies in the Court went, they could do worse than her.

He took out a key from his pocket, unlocked the room and stepped in. The room held his private belongings. Collections of things from years past. The majority of the room held his vinyl collection. Records of everything from Pink Floyd (one couldn’t have a record collection without owning Dark Side of the Moon,) to David Bowie, to Lee Morgan (he owned a rare variation copy of the Indeed! album that he quite enjoyed), and nearly every album by Frank Sinatra.

“There isn’t much left of your gear,” he admitted. “Bits of armour, nothing else.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” she replied. “Did my jacket survive?”

“No,” he said. “Too much demon ichor.”

She sighed. “A shame, really. I loved that jacket.”

He rounded a box of miscellaneous items, trinkets from a life he only occasionally chose to remember. “Your sword went with the Queen.”

“I do hope she falls on it,” Áine snarled quietly.

He smirked. “Bitter.”

“She killed me, of course I’m bitter.”

He picked up the box that held the remainder of her belongings. The plate gold armour she wore on her sword arm. Her belt that had managed not to get soaked in ichor like most of her clothes. A strange coin that had been in her pocket. Lastly, a large chunk of hematite hanging from a delicate silver chain that didn’t look like it could support the weight.

When he turned, he saw her with one of his records in hand. “I didn’t say you could touch anything,” he snarled.

She turned it his way, flashing the cover. “Sinatra’s has held a special place in my heart since I heard him sing in a speakeasy back in the ‘40’s.”

He raised a brow. “Really?”

“Of course,” she smiled, and for the first time since coming back to life did she look like her old self; bold, strong, and witty. Her face lit with joy, and it blinded him to her ridiculous outfit.  “What were you doing during the ‘40’s?”

He raised a brow. “I wasn’t even born until ’37,” he replied. “I certainly wasn’t going to any speakeasys.”

“Oh, I always just assume vampires are at least a century.” She shrugged. “Do you mind if we take a listen? Phonographs don’t work in the realm, most mundane technology just kind of… combusts.”

“Fine.” He set the box at her feet, and took the album. “This is the one you want to listen to?”

“Yes,” she replied. “What can I say? I have a soft spot for ‘I’ve Got You Under My Skin.’”

“At least it’s not ‘The Way You Look Tonight.’”

“What’s wrong with it,” she replied rather indignant.

“Nothing,” he replied, setting the pin down. The record crackled for a second before the first notes played. “It’s just everyone’s favourite.”

“What’s yours?” she asked, her body swaying ever so slightly.

“Someone To Watch Over Me,” he paused remembering his mother singing slightly off-key. “It was my mother’s favourite.” Surprised that he’d actually admitted such a thing he glared at her. “You have your stuff. What else do you need?”

“Your mother is a touchy subject, I take it,” her voice soft and quiet.  

He crossed his arms. “You know nothing of mothers.”

Her eyes flickered gold. “I know of mothers. Mine a mundane woman who baked pies, and always smelled of vanilla-“ When she caught his raised brow, she scowled. “Motherhood does not always require blood.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he replied. Their conversation too heavy for the smooth sounds of Sinatra. “I just thought that Seelie children were immediately brought to the nearest Queen.”

“They are now,” she replied. “I wasn’t born during a good time. Seelies were at war with… pretty much everyone. Mostly Warlocks, but there were feuds with Werewolves, bones to pick with Vampires, insults met with swords when it came to the Shadowhunters. My mother found me in the woods, took me in. She was a wonderful woman. It hurt when I had to leave-“ she shook her head of old memories, and thrust out a hand. “Dance with me.”

“I don’t dance,” Raphael said firmly.

“Why not?” she grabbed his hand and stepped so quickly into his space that on instinct he stepped back. “See,” she placed a hand on his shoulder, pulled his hand and shot out her leg- would have connected with his shin had he not stepped back again. “We’re dancing.”

“That’s a trick.”

“But not a malicious one,” she replied keeping up the steps, nearly hitting his toes until he fell into step with her.

Raphael glared at her. “We don’t have time for dancing.”

“One should always make time for dancing,” Áine replied. “Besides, who can resist Sinatra?”

“If whiplash were a person, it would be you,” he muttered, shocked when she laughed. Not polite laughter either, full from your toes kind of laughter that even put a smile on his face.

The song ended, and still giggling, she pressed her forehead against his. “Thank you for the dance, Raphael Santiago.”

He enjoyed the way his name rolled off her tongue, and so he didn’t bother to tell her to drop his surname. “Don’t you have pressing matters to attend to,” he said, taking a step back when he realized- for some reason he couldn’t quite figure out- he didn’t want her to leave.

“I do,” she admitted, staring down at the hand that had moments ago held his. She turned to her box, sorted through what was left. She pulled the chain over her head, the stone settling between her breasts. The coin she pocketed. After checking her armour, looking pleased by it’s condition, she picked up the box. “I’ll be in touch,” she said over her shoulder as she walked out of the room.

Raphael stood frozen as the next Sinatra song came on, but unfortunately, not just the song, but she too was under his skin.

::

Dazed, back aching, Clary got up to her hands and knees. Above her, she heard screams. Screams that were almost inhuman. Screams that shook her to the core. Screams of the dying. She jumped to her feet, and thought of tackling her _brother._ Maybe they could catch him off guard. Even as the thought ran through her mind, she knew it would be futile. He glanced at her and smiled.

The screams lessened until there was silence. Jonathan Morgenstern- her brother’s name. _Her brother._ The boy who supposedly died. He stood between them and the door. He grinned. “Feels good, doesn’t it? To experience history in the making.”

A part of her wanted to beg for freedom, to escape before whatever happened upstairs came down to their cells. One look at Alec, and she knew mercy wouldn’t come. The heavy footsteps coming down the hall left her trembling with both fear and apprehension.

The door opened again. Her stomach dropped, and she felt sick. _Valentine_. She looked across the room at Jace who stared a moment, utter shock written on his face. His eyes flicked over to meet hers briefly, mirrors of panic and disbelief. How could this be happening?

“You know, the Inquisitor is here,” Jace snarled.

Valentine smiled. “Of course I do.”

Clary squeezed her eyes tightly, willing herself not to cry in such a hopeless situation. “He’s working for you,” she whispered, horrified.

“He believes in my vision,” Valentine said. And when she thought it couldn’t possibly get worse, the blade in his hand caught the torchlight, even slicked in blood, she recognized it. The Mortal Sword.

“And just what is your vision?” Jocelyn snapped, stepping up to Clary’s side. “Bloodshed? Experiments? Setting lose your monstrosity,” she said gesturing to her son.

Clary was shocked by her mother’s words. The woman had cried over a box with her son’s initials, a lock of white blonde hair, and now she spat words of hate. Not that she disagreed. One look at Alec had her resolve strengthened.

“I’m the monstrosity?” he asked, tilting his head. “You’re the one who abandoned your own son.”

“Enough!” Valentine snapped. He frowned. “What did you do to the Lightwood boy? I told you to get him to talk, not sew his mouth shut!”

“I didn’t,” the young man replied. “I tried to get him to talk. He wouldn’t. Tried a little persuasion, and did he ever scream- but didn’t say anything useful. Did throw a few… insightful barbs Aldertree’s way. Kind of funny.” He gave a lazy shrug. “However, Aldertree didn’t see the humour in the situation, decided to shut him up.”

“He’s not useful to me like this,” Valentine said. “I can’t send him back to the institute like this.”

“Send Aldertree back, get him to tell everyone he’s letting them all sweat it until tomorrow,” Jonathan glanced over at Clary. “We can take them all with us, you can heal up the Lightwood boy, he’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

“The Clave will be suspicious,” Valentine said, staring at Jocelyn. “Especially now that the Silent Brothers are dead.”

“That wasn’t the plan, father, and not my mistake.” The young man smirked, indifferent to the glare Valentine sent his way.

The words fit the piece into the puzzle, and Clary saw the horrible picture. Those screams had been the Silent Brothers being slaughtered.

“We don’t really need any of them,” Jonathan said. “The Clave is predictable. You don’t need a puppet. Plus, you have Aldertree.

“The New York Institute doesn’t trust Aldertree. They trust Lightwoods, at least, they trust the younger ones.”

“They’re sheep. They’ll follow the Inquisitor.”  

A man with flowing robes walked in. “Time for the portal, Sir?”

Valentine nodded. “You’ll all be coming with us.”

“The Hell I will,” Jocelyn replied, sticking her arm out in front of Clary. “We’re not going anywhere with you.”

Clary tried to figure a way out of the situation, but the cells led to a dead end, and the warlock opened the portal in front of the door. She looked over at Jace who looked as stubborn as ever, searching for a way out. Her mother appeared defiant, but terrified. Magnus had his hands full, metaphorically and literally, with Alec who’d lost consciousness at some point.

“You don’t have a choice in this Jocelyn.”

She stepped forward, hands balled into fists. “There is always a choice.”

“Like taking a potion to render yourself completely useless to your daughter, a great choice,” Valentine said.

Clary, too attentive to her mother’s movements that she found herself caught off guard as her brother grabbed her wrist and twisted it painfully behind her back. She bit her lip cutting off the tail end of her scream, silencing it into a whimper. The warmth of his body cut through the cold of the damp prison.

“Now, Jocelyn. Through the portal,” Valentine said, staring pointedly at Clary. A glowing seraph dagger in her son’s hand, not pointed at her, but held loosely in his free hand, a hand that could so quickly turn the blade toward her throat. “Warlock, get up, bring the Lightwood boy.”

Clary heard Magnus cursing low, and angry, but she couldn’t turn her head to see. Jace moved out of her line of vision, soon after she saw that he and Magnus supported Alec’s weight between them, careful of his injuries.

“Your hair smells nice,” Jonathan whispered.

Her teeth ground together. “You could not possibly be creepier.”

He pushed her forward by her bad arm, and she let out a little shout.

“Leave her alone,” Jace snarled, stopping in his step, although Magnus had kept moving. Alec’s body hung awkwardly between them, a groan from his lips had his Parabatai by his side once more.

“She’s fine. She’s a Morgenstern, she’s tough,” Jonathan taunted. He pushed her ahead, past her mother, past Jace, Magnus, and Alec, past Valentine, he turned so he first would go through the portal.

Clary’s eyes met her mother’s, and saw defeat.

“See you on the other side,” Jonathan said. And they were falling.


	13. Chapter 13

Flickers of memories played. A moment of walking through the darkened tunnel. The robed figure. The sound of the latch catching, trapping him. The familiar, yet sinister burn of the rune on the back of his neck. He couldn’t see in the moments where the witchlight was purged. Pure agony rushing through his bones. The respite came with a moment to breathe. The water drips from the ceiling, and under the witchlight, he can see the rivulets hugging the cell bars. Restraints tearing into skin. The needle pushing through his flesh, followed by the wire. The taste of blood.

“Alec, please, Darling, wake up!”

A whimper escaped him when he tried to take a deep breath. His lips pulled against the wire before he settled them together. The blood dried into an awful crust over his lips and skin.

Magnus had him cradled, and Alec didn’t bother to try and move. Instead, he let himself relax in his boyfriend’s hold, resting his head against his shoulder. From his secure position, he looked around, trying to get his barring. The windowless room was painted grey. There were two beds pressed against opposite walls. They were sitting on one, Magnus’s back to the wall. Across from them they had a good view of the door, where Clary paced back and forth. Another door was left ajar, and Alec could see a sink through it and assumed it to be a bathroom.

“You’re awake,” Magnus said softly, the words coming out as a relieved sigh. “Let me catch you up. Don’t try and ask questions,” he warned, further reminding him of his current situation. “We went through a portal, there are two Warlocks here. A man who brought us through, and a woman who was already here. I don’t know either, and have learned nothing about them. Valentine took Jocelyn first, she is apparently with the children, the mundies turned Shadowhunter thanks to the cup.” Alec nodded, following along. “He returned and took Jace- for an errand. He didn’t say what.”

“He said he’d be going with Jonathan though,” Clary said, abandoning her pacing to sit on the bed across from them. “Why?”

“Because Valentine wants some big happy family?” Magnus said sarcastically. “Who knows? He’s a madman, and so is his son, the apple doesn’t fall far.”

Clary visibly tensed. She twisted her fingers, and turned to look at the door.

Alec could read the distress the thoughtless comment caused Clary, and he gently elbowed Magnus in the sternum. When Magnus looked confused, Alec nodded his head Clary’s way. Magnus’s eyes turned from him, to the redhead. He softened. “Biscuit, I didn’t mean you.”

She nodded, forced a smile. “Let’s just focus on figuring a way out of this mess?”

::

Ten children.

Jocelyn didn’t know how many Valentine had tested with the cup, but there were ten. Ten children who had gone from being mundane, to angel-blooded. They had no knowledge of runes, or customs, they could light up a Seraph blade, but had no understanding of how to use it.

 _‘Train them,’_ Valentine had ordered.

She wouldn’t train these children to be thoughtless killers, cannon fodder for Valentine’s war. A little boy with white-blonde hair looked up at her with big green eyes. “Miss. Miss. I’m hungry.”

As she looked around again, she realized all the children were a little gaunt. None of them were being properly cared for. Damn Valentine to Hell. “I’ll find you something,” Jocelyn promised before she walked to the door. Locked, of course. She banged on it, slamming her palm against it for minutes until it finally swung open.

For a second, Jocelyn thought of trying to overpower Valentine, but she couldn’t back when she was in top form, and certainly hadn’t tried since his experiments. No. She couldn’t risk being locked away, she needed to take care of the children, she needed to reunite with Clary. “The children are hungry. When was the last time you fed them?”

At that, Valentine looked a little ashamed. “I was busy.”

“Unbelievable.” She crossed her arms. “Show me the kitchen, they’re half-starved!”

She expected an argument. Figured he would slam the door, and tell her food would be coming. Instead, he took a step back and let her step out. He locked the door once more, and led the way through the house.

The hallway led into the large, eat-in kitchen. The harvest table looked long enough to sit twenty. “Where are we?” she asked, looking through the window over the sink, only to find a glowing pale yellow.

“Nowhere and everywhere,” he replied. “No one can track you here, if that’s what you’re wondering. The kitchen is well stocked, make whatever you’d like.”

She got the potatoes in the oven and prepped the three whole chickens. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Valentine. Not of now, but of then. His eyes still held love in them, a soft smile as he watched her work. A part of her longed for those days long past, days that were complex, and yet, so much simpler.

“Tell me about Clarissa.”

She wanted to deny him. Her walls were built up like a fortress, especially around the topic of her daughter. However, she also knew that somewhere in this house was her little girl. If he didn’t get the answers from her, he could go to the source.

“She prefers Clary,” Jocelyn said softly. Now that the chicken was in the oven, she started washing the dishes she’d used in preparation just to avoid eye contact with her ex. “She loves art, and is more often than not lost in her own little world.”

“Sounds like you,” Valentine said. “Tell me more.”

She tried thinking of things that were on the surface, things that anyone could figure out by only spending a moment with her. “She’s headstrong, stubborn as the day is long. She’s kind, and loyal.” _Everything you’re not._ She chewed on her bottom lip. “Is she okay?”

“Of course she is. You’ll be able to see her later.”

“They’re going to be hungry too.”

“They’ll get to eat.”

Jocelyn put the last dish in the rack, and dried her hands. She glanced over. “Alec, let me help him.”

“I told Jace that I would let him take the wire out once he returns from his task. He’s soft-hearted. He didn’t learn from his lessons.” Valentine shrugged. “It makes him easy to manipulate.”

“He isn’t soft-hearted. He’s loyal.” She glared. “A trait you don’t have.”

He stood then, closed the space between them too fast, and his hand cupped her jaw. “I have always been loyal to you, Jocelyn.”

“Is that what you call this? Keeping me here against my will?”

“I am keeping you safe,” his fingers tightened fractionally, and her teeth clenched together willing herself not to make a sound. “War is coming, and my family will be safe in this house.”

::

Jace returned, and Clary leapt to her feet. The door quickly shut and locked behind him. “Where did you go? What did you do?” She stared at him, he looked pale, and he held up a hand to ward off her barrage of questions.

“I’ll tell you,” he promised, but came over to the bed where Magnus and Alec were. Alec sitting on his own, hugging a pillow to his chest, smudges of blood on it. “But first,” he held up the wire cutters. “Let’s get to work.”

Alec raised his head, his Adam’s apple bobbing when his eyes locked onto the cutters. Slowly, he shifted to sit on the side of the bed. It was high enough that sitting on it put him at nearly the same height as Jace standing.

Clary watched as Jace carefully cut the first few wires, wires that were so close to Alec’s skin. Once cut, they’d loosen, the movement making Alec groan. Jace lined up the next one, his hand trembling, and he pulled back. “Damn it.”

“Here,” Clary reached out. “Artist hands, they’re steady.”

Jace looked from Clary to Alec, who nodded. “Okay,” Jace handed the cutters over, and Clary cut the next one.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I know this must hurt, and I’m doing everything I can to avoid making it worse.” His hands gripped the corner of the mattress, giving him something to ground himself. Magnus had his hand on Alec’s thigh, but seemed to be trying not to overcrowd him. “Only three more, Alec, you’re doing great,” she said snapping the next one. “Two, two more, okay?”

His hand’s tightened when she cut the next one. “Almost,” she said, knowing the worst was far from over, they still had to pull the fragments out from his lips. The process would be excruciating. She cut the last of the wires, and the ends of the wire pointed jagged out of his skin. “Anyone know a good way of going about this?”

Alec’s hand’s left the mattress, and felt his own face. He pushed one of the wires through and dumped it on the ground.

“Do you want help?” Magnus asked. Alec paused his task only to shake his head, and slightly turn away from them.

Clary noticed the hurt on Magnus’s face, but also knew Alec well enough that he wouldn’t want anyone to see his suffering. It took many agonizing moments, the young man having to pause every now and then, but eventually he let the last of the wires fall to the ground. His fingers went back to his mouth, feeling the damage.

When Alec turned to them, Magnus’s eyes widened and he couldn’t stop the gasp from escaping. His magic swirled first protective waves, then red hot anger. Both left him gasping, clutching his lungs which were robbed of air, a pulsing migraine hit him and left the room spinning. When the world righted itself, Alec’s bloody hands were on his arms, holding him upright. “I’m okay. I pressed my magic, and the collar pushes it back.”

“I thought it just kept you from using magic, I didn’t know it was causing you pain!” Clary said.

“It only hurts when I try to use, or lose control over my magic.” He grimaced. “I’m back to full strength.”

Alec’s grip loosened, then drew away. “Are you okay?” his voice quiet, but all gravel and smoke. Clearly all the screaming from the Agony rune had done damage to his vocal cords.

“I’ll be fine,” Magnus said. “You’re the one who’s been tortured.” The anger rose again, and he had to look away, focussed on his breathing, he suppressed his magic. “I hate seeing you like this. If I had access to my magic, I could heal you.” He grabbed at the collar again even knowing that pulling at it would only hurt himself in the end. “Not only that, I could get us out of here.”

“We will get out,” Alec said, he went to take Magnus’s hand away from where it tugged on the golden collar, only to now realize how much blood was on himself. “Damn it.”

“There is a shower,” Clary said, pointing to the bathroom. “No window, vent, nor means of escape, but if you think you can use a shampoo bottle as a deadly weapon, be my guest.” Alec almost smiled, winced instead, and nodded. He didn’t move though, instead he stared intensely at his parabatai.

Jace sighed. “Alright. We went out, acquired some… thing.”

“Thing?” Magnus glared, clearly unamused.

“I’m not sure what it was. It was shaped like an egg.” Jace frowned. “It did look Seelie in origin though, same kind of workmanship as that collar, and as Áine’s rapier. A lot of gold, it was heavy too. There were a multitude of demons guarding it, so it must be powerful.”

“Demons,” Clary stared. “How did you get it without dying?”

“I had weapons,” he admitted softly. “I thought about stabbing Jonathan and trying to make a call to the Institute, but we were portalled to the middle of nowhere with the lady warlock- I heard Valentine call her Esther.”

“I heard of an Esther Rook,” Magnus said, thoughtful. “Although, I thought she died.”

“She must have done something noteworthy if you remember her,” Clary pried.

Magnus sighed. “She slaughtered an entire coven of vampires- the rumours aren’t clear on why. Some say her lover was turned, others say her daughter was drained. In any case, some personal vendetta got out of control. Some point fingers at her being the one to begin violence between Warlocks and Vampires.” Magnus shook his head. “If that is the case, we’re in serious trouble.”

A banging at the door had them all jumping. “Dinner in five,” Jonathan sing-songed. “Be washed up and ready.”

“I hate that guy,” Jace whispered.

“We all do,” Magnus replied.


	14. Chapter 14

The moment Lydia shut the door behind herself after leaving Victor’s office, the false smile fell. Her entire body felt ready for battle, tense and waiting. Instead of fighting with swords, this was a battle of a different kind, and so, she rolled her shoulders trying to ease the tension. A deep breath later, she strode forward, she checked Isabelle’s room, but didn’t find the girl. A quick check of her regular haunts; the kitchen, Alec’s room, the training room, and finally the Infirmary.

There, the young woman sat with her mother. Maryse laid vulnerable from Valentine’s attack on the Institute. “Any change?” Lydia asked at a distance, trying not to startle Isabelle.

“No, none,” Isabelle replied and stood. “Honestly, I’m a little glad she’s remained out of it. If… when she comes to, the Clave will have questions. They’ll ask them, regardless of what shape she’s in.” She leaned over, and kissed her mother’s temple. With that, she turned away and walked toward the infirmary stairs that would take her down to the Pathology office. She paused at the door, and beckoned with her hand. “Are you coming?”

Lydia passed Maryse, and followed Isabelle down the stairs. While she expected to go all the way to the office, Isabelle stopped on the platform, clearly not intending on going further. It took all but a few seconds for her to realize it was because both the Infirmary and the Pathology offices had cameras while the stairwell did not.

“It’s been almost forty-eight hours,” Isabelle said, her arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

“I know.”

“Did Aldertree say anything to you?”

“Nothing useful,” Lydia replied. “He acts as though everything is under control though.”

“I sent a fire message to the Silent City,” Isabelle said. “Mother should have woken up by now, and she hasn’t. I got no response.”

Lydia swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. That didn’t sound good at all. “Maybe you can convince your father to speak with Aldertree,” she suggested. “Alec is his son-“

“So is Jace,” Isabelle reminded her. “In all the ways that have counted.”

“I know.” Lydia always felt like she lost footing with Isabelle.

“Do you really think it would make a difference?” Isabelle asked, her voice cool in her anger. “There is no reason why their names shouldn’t be cleared by now. Silent City isn’t responding. Something big is happening, something bad,” Isabelle rushed over the words, her hands grabbing Lydia’s shoulders tightly and giving her a slight shake. “Please tell me you see it too.”

“It’s all suspicious,” Lydia said slowly.

“Suspicious!” Isabelle snapped, giving Lydia a slight push, as she herself took a step back. “That’s all?”

She went to push back, to climb the stairs again, but Lydia’s hand shot out and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her back. “I know someone who can check out what’s going on in Silent City.” When Isabelle finally relaxed in the hold, Lydia released her.

“But we’re all under lockdown, and only Shadowhunters can get in.”

Lydia raised a brow, and pulled out her phone. “The New York Institute is not the only Institute, nor is our entrance to the Silent City the only one.”

Isabelle sighed, and some of the tension left her shoulders. “Who are you going to call?”

“The head of the Northern Institute, Bryn Penrose-“

“I remember,” Isabelle said. “She helped us in the battle against Valentine. Does she owe you a favour? The Clave has surely warned other Institutes and Shadowhunters about what’s happening here.”

“My cousin is Jonathon Kingsgate, her husband,” Lydia replied. “We’re family.” With that, she dialled.

::

Cara gave Niv a wide berth as he sat in meditation and she didn’t wish to disturb. The little apartment was suffocating, and slowly driving her mad. The colours here were muted, and she missed the scents, and sounds, and colours of the realm. Unlike Áine, and most other Seelies if she were honest, she had no real love of the mundane plain. Nothing here felt positively real to her. Nothing but other Seelies.

She found Áine standing near the window, staring out blankly. Quickly, she wrapped her arms around her from behind, held tightly to her beacon of light in this storm.

“I awoke with the taste of blood in my mouth,” Áine said quietly.

Cara tensed. While she’d always been prone to visions, Áine never had any faith in them, and thought the talent to be a useless one. Cara didn’t entirely disagree. The future took many paths, and a change of words, starting a journey with a right foot rather than a left, such small things could make a huge impact and completely change how an event would play out- ending the validity of a vision.

“That’s been happening a lot lately,” Cara said. When Áine first confessed her vision, the taste of blood with it, it concerned her. Áine wasn’t prone to visions, and it had to be bothering her for her to even bother mentioning it.

“Pain,” Áine brushed her thumb against her lips.

“What else?” Cara asked, slipping her hand under the woman’s shirt, feeling the smooth warm skin.

“Nothing. It’s mostly this feeling of wrongness. And pain. The taste of blood always lingers after, but it’s not mine. I don’t know who it is, and I feel like-“ she stopped pressing her forehead against the cool window.

“You feel like what?”

“Like I’m failing someone. Like I’m losing an important battle, one I can’t even see. It’s closer… closer than I thought it was at first. Has it come to pass? Is it coming?” She turned and Cara felt her heart sink with the pain on Áine face, pain that so infrequently was there. “Is it a vision of the past? Is this Cillian? Niamh?”

“It wouldn’t be of the past,” Cara said softly. Although it hurt to see her lover in such pain, it was good to see her actually grieving other than locking it away and pretending to be fine.

“Could it be you?” she whispered fearfully. “Niv?”

Not for the first time did Cara curse visions. They often caused more problems than they remedied. “I don’t know. It could be anyone you’ve ever met, although considering the frequency I’d say it’s someone closer to you, someone from the past few years at least. Or it is something that is happening soon after you have a vision.”

“Or it could be happening soon.”

“Or it could be happening soon,” Cara repeated, agreeing.

“It could be Raphael,” she said softly.

“The vampire?” Cara’s eyes widened. “You’re worried for him?”

“He likes Sinatra.”

Cara smiled softly. “I’ll never understand your fascination with that Mundane.”

“He transcended the mundane,” Áine murmured, wrapping her arms around Cara. “He is who I tethered myself to,” she whispered. Cara stiffened, and understood the absolute trust she had been given. “Tell no one.”

“I would never,” Cara replied. “Does Niv know?”

“No, but I’m not opposed to him knowing. He is loyal to me, of this I have no doubts,” Áine shifted back, pressing a kiss to Cara’s temple. “As I have no doubts of you.”

“Whatever you need, I will do it, my Queen,” Cara said.

“Be ready,” Áine said. “When the time comes, I’ll need you to help me break Isabelle Lightwood out of the Institute.”

“The Shadowhunter.” When Áine nodded, Cara looked up to the ceiling. “You want to break a Shadowhunter out of an Institute full of Shadowhunters.”

“Yes,” Áine replied. “I need her to go to the realm for me.”

“I’ll go, you don’t need to entrust such a thing with a Shadowhunter.”

“I’m not letting you go,” Áine said softly. “I know you’re eager to return, but until the current Queen is dead and I’m in control, I won’t let you. She’d use you to get to me,” she brushed her thumb over Cara’s lips. “And it would work. So no, you’ll stay here, surrounded by werewolves.”

The knock at the door startled them both, Áine walked away from the window, through the galley kitchen, not even pausing as she grabbed the butchers knife from the block. Niv stood where he once meditated, eyes fixated darkly on the door. Áine held the knife ready and swung open the door.

Luke immediately put his hands up. “Woah!”

“Sorry,” Áine flicked the knife so the handle was still in her hand, but the flat of the blade pressed against the skin of her forearm.

“What’s happened?” Cara asked.

“Isabelle called,” Luke said, distressed, his hand running over the top of his head. “She had someone from another Institute check out the City of Bones. The Brothers… they’re all dead. There were a few out, doing other work, but those who were in the New York section of Bone City are dead.”

“Only the angel blooded can enter Bone City,” Niv said.

“Valentine,” Áine said. “It must have been him and that army of so called Shadowhunters.”

“Jocelyn, Clary, Jace, and Alec had all been taken there for questioning,” Luke took a deep breath, but it didn’t appear to calm him in the least, his eyes were lit a dangerous green. “According to Isabelle, Aldertree is blaming the slaughter on them.”

“Bone City,” Áine said.

“Áine?” Cara reached out and touched her arm.

Áine turned to Cara. “Bone City. My visions were from Bone City. It fits. I just does.”

Cara understood, sometimes a simple word could change the context of her visions, and slot pieces into place without even understanding how. “So this was something happening to one of the four Shadowhunters.”

“Maybe,” Áine said, like she didn’t want to agree, like she wanted desperately to be wrong, for the vision to be false. “Regardless, we’re breaking Isabelle out. At nightfall.”

::

Dinner could not be a more awkward affair. Valentine sat at the head of the table, Jocelyn to his right, Jonathan to his left. Clary sat next to her mother, and beside her Jace. Alec sat next to Jonathan, having put himself between the menace and Magnus.

They ate the meal that Jocelyn had prepared, or at least, what the other children hadn’t eaten. There was plenty for everyone, but even so, none of the prisoners had much of an appetite. Alec did little more than push the food around on his plate. While he’d done what he could to clean the blood from his face, his clothes were still plastered to his skin as it had dried.

Clary stabbed the food with more force than necessary, which made Jonathan smile at her, which made Jace glare at him.  Magnus spent half his meal staring worriedly at Alec, before finally whispering, “You need to eat something.”

“Yeah, come on, buddy,” Jonathan hit his shoulder against Alec’s. “It’s not that bad.”

Alec’s cool blue eyes turned to glare at the man. “I’m not your ‘buddy.’”

“Really? Is this about the Agony Rune thing?” Jonathan smiled. “You’re still mad about that?”

Jace looked about ready to come across the table armed only with his fork. Instead, he sat back in his seat when Alec shot him a knowing look.

“It’s not as if I was the one who sewed your lips shut,” Jonathan continued. “That was all Aldertree. Little homophobic that one, and yet you all look at me like _I’m_ the bad guy. And you,” he pointed his fork at Alec. “You egged him on, it’s kind of your fault.”

The muscle in Alec’s jaw jumped when he clenched his teeth together.

Jocelyn reached out slowly and touched Valentine’s hand. The man startled but didn’t pull away. “He does need to eat,” she said calmly, like she was trying to reason with a temperamental two year old.  “He can hardly do that after what Aldertree did. Let me Iratze him.”

The table went still, everyone watching, waiting to see what Valentine would do. He pulled out his Stele, for a moment there was a collective relief. The moment broke when instead of passing it to Jocelyn, he passed the Stele to Jonathan.

Alec’s chair topped as he stood quickly, backing away. “I’m fine,” he said sharply.

“Come on now? Where’s that bravery?” Jonathan asked. “The snark in the face of immeasurable pain and suffering? It’s an Iratze.”

“Let me,” Jace said, staring at Valentine. “You’re watching, you can make sure the Iratze is the only rune I draw on him. I’m his parabatai, I want him safe, I wouldn’t risk another rune. I’m not stupid.”

Valentine considered it a moment. He looked at Jocelyn, then Clary, before turning back to Jonathan. “Give the Stele to Jace.”

Jonathan frowned, but threw it Jace’s way. Jace caught it easily enough, and walked around the table. He gently pulled down the collar of Alec’s shirt, so he could get it as close to the wounds as possible. He raised the Stele only to have his wrist grabbed by Alec’s hand. The taller man looked almost confused, as he looked at Jace, then fearful when his eyes turned to the Stele. “No,” he whispered.

“Alec,” Jace softened his voice. “You know I’d never hurt you.”

“I know,” Alec replied.

Jace felt his parabatai tremble, and it broke his heart. “We might not get another chance.”

Fingers tightened around Jace’s wrist, and slowly Alec shook his head, refusing to let Jace give him the rune.

“Okay,” Jace relented, walking over and setting the Stele down by Valentine even when he wanted to try and stab someone with it.

Valentine had a bit of a smirk on his face as everyone came to sit around the table again. He stared at Alec. “Your father was afraid of runes too.”

Alec looked almost ashamed as he stared down at his plate. “Why are you keeping us here?”

“You were part of a plan, however that fell apart,” Valentine admitted. “However, I’m nothing if not flexible. You’re relatively useless right now, but your being alive seems to please my daughter. However, Alexander, if you don’t play by my rules, you will find that I’ll have no problems disposing of you, and your Warlock. Is that understood?”

Alec swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“Good.”

::

They’d been moved to a different room, much larger than the last. There were four beds, and as it turned out Jocelyn wouldn’t be staying with them. While Clary had been given her own room, she immediately started crying, and borderline hyperventilating insisting she needed to stay with her friends. Alec had been startled, Clary- even in the middle of madness- seemed to roll with it, to grab onto anger rather than panic. However, once she ended up in a room with them, after another bed had been conjured by one of his Warlocks, she appeared at peace, and she’d winked, clearly having faked it all.

They had only one bathroom, and Alec had taken it first, his hands full of a new set of clothes. He took longer than he usually would in the shower, like he could wash away the fear, and pain.

He’d never been afraid of runes. Especially not runes given to him by Jace, his brother, his parabatai. He hadn’t even known he’d be afraid until Jace raised the Stele. He slammed his palms against the tile. His entire body ached. The Iratze would have helped him, would have healed his wounds. Instead, he’d have to heal like a mundane, still a little quicker thanks to his angel blood.

He felt so useless, he worried about his parents, Izzy and Max, back at the Institute. He worried about Jocelyn who wasn’t permitted to stay with them. He worried about Jonathan existing, and he touched the back of his neck feeling the raised scar that came with the multiple uses of the Agony rune. Valentine had the Mortal Cup and the Sword. He didn’t dare think that things couldn’t get worse in fear that they would.

With the clean clothes on, a simple pair of track pants that actually fit his long legs, and a t-shirt that fit snuggly, he shoved the remnants of his clothes into the trash bin.

They all sat around, taking turns getting showered until they all sat in a circle on the floor, wet hair, and comfy clothing on.

“We need a plan,” Jace said quietly.

“We need weapons,” Alec whispered.

Clary pushed back some of her hair, it left wet marks on her t-shirt. “And a stele.”

“And a way out of this fucking collar,” Magnus said, his neck red from all the times he’d tugged at it in frustration.

“Someone has to be looking for us by now, right?” Clary asked.

Alec nodded. “By now, someone must know about what happened in Silent City.”

“But they probably blame us for it. They already had us locked there in belief that we were working for Valentine,” Jace said. “We’ve likely all been marked as traitors to the Clave.”

“We can worry about that later,” Alec said. “For now, we need out of here.”

They heard someone outside the door, and all jumped to their feet. Valentine stood there with a little smile. “Jace, I need you to do something for me. Come on.”

“Where is he going?” Clary demanded.

“On an errand,” Valentine replied vaguely. “He’ll be back by morning.”

Jace glanced at Clary, then to his parabatai. They didn’t say anything, but understood completely that which went unsaid. _‘Be careful.’ ‘Watch out for Clary.’_

Clary had her hands balled into fists as she watched Jace leave, the door shut and locked once again. She looked up, surprised at Alec’s hand on her shoulder

“He’ll be okay,” he said his voice still raspy, and she wondered if he’d done real damage that couldn’t be repaired with all the screaming.

A shiver ran down her spine at the very thought of the Agony rune, the scar of which she’d seen on the back of Alec’s neck. In that moment, she understood two things very clearly. One, she hated Jonathan, her brother, with every fiber of her being, and two, given the chance, she’d kill him for what he’d done to her friend.

“We should all get some sleep,” Magnus said. “The last thing we need is to be overtired on top of everything else. With any luck, Jace will return with something useful.”

While there were four single beds, Clary took one, while Alec climbed into bed with Magnus, curled up to him, half over him, just so there was enough room. Magnus’s arms tightened around him. “If you need to talk,” he said softly.

“I trust Jace. I just couldn’t let him rune me,” Alec said quietly, not wanting Clary to hear the edge of fear in his voice. “I don’t think I could have drawn it on myself either. I just… I can’t right now.”

“I understand,” Magnus whispered back.

He tucked his head against Magnus’s chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Alexander, what could you possibly be sorry for?”

“I shouldn’t be scared of this. I’ve worn runes since I was ten years old. And it’s my lips, my face that’s all…messed up. I still don’t understand you being attracted to me in the first place and now-“

“I’d kiss you right now if it wouldn’t cause you pain,” Magnus whispered heatedly. “I love you, you idiot. You’re gorgeous, and even if scars remain, I’d still think you’re the most beautiful being I’ve ever encountered.”

Alec’s lips turned into a lopsided grin, even though it caused him a bit of pain. “I love you too,” he muttered, the love sinking into his skin like a balm healing his wounds.

“We’re going to get out of this,” Magnus assured. “And with any luck I’ll be the one to send that Jonathan bastard to hell.”

“Not if I get him first,” they heard Clary mutter from her bed.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took me forever to get out. I was sick recently, and it was hard to get writing, and I always have trouble getting through the set up bits when all I want to do is write action all the time lol.

Stepping out of the portal, Jace looked around trying to get a feel for where they were. It appeared they were located in _the middle of fucking nowhere_ and the leash on his temper shortened. Of course they couldn’t have a mission somewhere familiar.

The lady Warlock, Esther Rook, leaned against a tree. “I’ll be waiting,” she said flippantly.

“You know,” Jace said, glancing at her darkly. “You work for a man who’d wipe out every Downworlder, right?”

She crept closer, a smile on her face, her pupils stretching, filling her irises and darkening the blood veins in her eyes- her warlock mark. “You say that like I care.”

“He’d kill you,” he stated, as if it should be obvious.

Again, she smirked. “Not before he kills everyone else.”

A chill ran down Jace’s spine even if he didn’t let it show. He had hoped to worm past her shell, find something she cared about, even if it were as simple as her own life. To know all she wanted was utter destruction left her as a lost cause to him.

“Come on, Little Brother,” Jonathan said. “No time for idle chit-chat.”

Jace turned his back to the Warlock, and fell into stride with Jonathan. “Stop calling me that,” he snapped. “I’m not related to you in the least. We’re not family.”

“We’re not blood, but we were raised by the same man,” Jonathan argued. “That kind of makes us family.”

“It really doesn’t,” Jace hissed, the grip on his sword tightening. He was far enough away from Esther that he could strike out, slice Jonathan’s throat, and then… then what? Where would he go? What would he do? Even if he found a way out of these dark woods, even if he made it to whatever Institute was around, even if they listened and mustered the forces, where would he lead them?

And so, he continued to bide his time, even when he had to bite his tongue so hard it bled.

::

“This is a bad idea,” Luke said, a few of his werewolf comrades around him.

“If you have a better one, I’d like to hear it,” Áine replied, a brow raised as she waited for an answer she knew would not come. Beside her, she felt Cara shift, their arms brushing against one another, comforting and familiar. Luke remained silent, and Áine had a smug grin on her face.

“You know,” Alaric said, eyeing the Seelie.  “You’re not the one risking getting diced up by Shadowhunters.”

Áine’s eyes narrowed at the wolf, and she felt more than heard Cara’s sigh. “Do you doubt my bravery?”

A shadow moved, and everyone startled, however Niv simply settled into a crouch behind Áine, his hand between her shoulder blades. “You dare insult my Queen?” he asked, glaring at Alaric.

Alaric’s eyes flashed green. “She’s not a Queen.”

Niv and Cara shared a look, one of mirth, and exasperation.

“Do not insult the Seelies,” Luke warned Alaric, and the rest of his pack by extension. “They don’t take kindly to insults.”

“We really don’t,” Áine said, her joking tone from earlier gone. “I wouldn’t mind proving to you just how easily I slip into battle. Of course, you would only have a moment to admire my grace before you would have your hands full of your own entrails.”

Alaric looked to Luke as if to tell him to say something, do something, how dare he be spoken of in this manner. Luke simply raised his brows and shrugged as if to say- you got yourself into this mess, you know better.

“I found a way up,” Niv said. “Tell Isabelle Lightwood where to be.”

::

The quiet cry managed to pull Alec out of a dead sleep. He swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest, his eyes adjusted to the low amount of light filtering through the half-closed bathroom door. They’d left the light on, none of them feeling comfortable in complete darkness.

He assessed the room. The door still shut, no shadows moving around. Magnus remained asleep, but they’d somehow switched positions in their sleep, and now the Warlock was tucked against Alec’s side, hair still damp from the shower feeling cold against the shoulder Magnus used as a pillow.

Seeking the sound, he glanced over at Clary’s sleeping form. She whimpered again, her hand twitching in her sleep. Alec frowned, and empathised with the young woman. He was no stranger to nightmares. The beds were close enough together that he could stretch out and poke her hand. He didn’t want to wake Magnus, but he also didn’t want Clary to suffer. Unspoken, he’d promised his Parabatai he’d protect her.

“Clary?” he whispered as loud as he dared, and poked her hand again.

She sat up violently, and grabbed the nearest object. Her pillow. She held it like a weapon, her eyes looking around wildly.

“Clary,” he said softly. “It’s just me.”

She looked around again, and then let out a breath. “Alec.”

“Yeah. Just Magnus and me here. It’s okay.” The words of comfort came off his tongue even if it was a lie. At least, they were as ‘okay’ as they could be right now.

She set the pillow down. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” he lied.

She smiled, her head tipping forward slightly. Clearly, she didn’t believe him, but he felt her fondness for trying. “Sorry,” she said.

“Nothing to apologise for,” he said in the same hushed whisper. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked when she didn’t lay back down.

“It was horrible,” she whispered, glaring at the door. “I thought _he_ was here.” She pushed both hands through her long red hair. “His eyes were black. I could feel his hands. It was so real.” She shook her head as though she could physically shake off the memories. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He frowned, but didn’t pry. “If you change your mind, it’s okay. You can wake me up.”

Her eyes looked haunted when they found his. “I know we didn’t start on the best of terms, but I really adore you, Alec.”

Clary’s words left him chilled. It were as if she was completely hopeless, as if she’d lost all sight of a light at the end of the tunnel, as if she were saying goodbye just in case one or both of them didn’t make it.

“You kind of grew on me too,” he said. “Like moss or something.” His words had the desired effect, she grinned. “Come on,” he lifted the blankets. “Join us.”

She didn’t pause to think about it, just abandoned her pillow weapon and joined the boys on the too small of a bed. He remembered only a month ago sleeping shoulder to shoulder with Clary while they were still looking for Jace. How quickly time had gone by. They’d managed to go from one bad situation to another. Clary fit only because she snuggled up close, and used Alec’s other shoulder for a pillow.

“You’re lucky he’s gay, or I would be jealous,” Magnus muttered sleepily.

“Why would you be jealous?” Clary replied. “You’re cuddled up to him too.”

“Because he’s mine,” Magnus opened his eyes, the yellow nearly glowing in the half-light, his glamour zapped by the collar. “And I don’t like sharing. But this is platonic, and rather adorable, so I’m letting it slide.”

“So gracious,” Alec murmured.

“I really am, I should get an award for it.” Magnus shut his eyes, and the trio went quiet as they all started to fall back to sleep.

::

Within the Institute walls, Isabelle tried to calm her restlessness. She knew to be ready for the call from Luke and Áine who would be breaking her out, then she could actually do something useful for a change. Something was clearly wrong, and while Lydia had brought the information about Silent City to the recently returned Aldertree, he’d done nothing with it. At least, not with any of the forces he had at hand. The entire New York Institute was getting antsy. Instead, Aldertree had reported the findings to the Clave. If the information she’d caught whispers of, the Northern Institute of Toronto was investigating.

She wore her gear and had herself armed to the teeth, waiting it out in the training center as not to look out of place. With her whip, she went through the familiar exercise of snuffing candles. Child’s play really, but it kept her body and mind moving.

Her whip struck out, snuffing the last candle, and between the tall pillars stood Max. “Woah,” he said with wide eyes. “So cool!”

She grinned at the praise. Max so frequently looked up to the boys, and rarely thought of the whip as a ‘cool’ weapon. “Think you’ll take up the whip?”

“Nah,” he said. “I think I like daggers more. Like Jace.”

 _Of course._  

“Izzy, what happened in Silent City?”

She sighed. Telling him the truth would hurt, but lying when he would surely overhear and put it together himself would be worse. “The Silent Brother’s were killed. The few that were out are being safe guarded in Institutes around the world. Alec, Jace, Clary, Magnus, and Jocelyn are all missing.”

Max didn’t appear surprised, and she knew he must have already figured it out by eavesdropping and had only wanted confirmation. “But then why aren’t we doing anything, Izzy?” His face scrunched up in confusion. “Why aren’t we going out to find them?”

“Aldertree won’t let us,” Isabelle replied.

His shoulders fell. “But why?” 

She sighed. “Politics? I don’t know. Shadowhunters from other Institutes are looking into what happened at Silent City.”

He took a step forward, paused, then another until he walked right into her, his arms around her waist. “Be careful,” he whispered.

“Max? What are you talking about?” she whispered back.

“You’re wearing your gear. You’re leaving.”

She fumbled for words, but couldn’t outright lie to him. Crouching down to his height, she steadied herself with one knee on the ground. “I don’t know what’s going on, but the Clave suspects our brothers, Magnus, Clary, and Jocelyn of working with Valentine-“

“But they wouldn’t.” His eyes narrowed. “That’s dumb.”

 _From the mouths of babes._ Isabelle smiled out of surprise, of course the child could see what the Clave could not. “I know. That’s why I’m going to find them.”

“How?”

“Not sure yet to be honest,” Isabelle replied. “But I have allies.”

He considered this a moment. “Downworlders,” he whispered, his eyes wide.

“You can’t speak of this to anyone,” she insisted. “Not Dad, not Mom… when she wakes up.”

“I won’t.”

“Swear on the Angel, Max.”

He paused and took a deep breath. “I swear on the Angel I won’t tell anyone that you left the Institute, or that you’re working with Downworlders to find out siblings.”

She let out a breath, and brushed his hair from his eyes, much like she frequently did with Alec. “I love you, _hermanito.”_

“I love you too, Izzy.”

::

Áine watched from below as Cara climbed the tree that led to a small flat portion of the Institute’s roof. Steam rolled out from a vent giving Cara a rather romantic edge in the moonlight. From there, she got a bit of a run, jumped to the top of the fan, and sprung up onto the slanted roof. The long blonde curls were high in a ponytail, but still blew around in the wind.

Battle came naturally to Áine, bringing her lovers into the mix did not. She stared worriedly up at Cara from the ground.

“She’ll be fine,” Niv said, his large presence remarkably calming.

The window finally opened, and Isabelle poked her head out. She looked down and Áine gave a little wave, and then pointed up. Isabelle turned and looked toward the roof where Cara leaned over dangerously.

“I hate having her involved,” Áine admitted. “I hate having either of you involved.”

“You don’t have another option,” Niv said as evenly as ever. The lack of inflection in his speaking voice left most unnerved. For Áine it was calming. It was when Niv deviated that she worried, his emotions were those of extremes, and in the Court, his anger was legendary.

Áine figured with enough time, perhaps she could have found an alternative. Time, however, was not something they had on their side. She stared, uselessly as Cara held to the edge of the roof, and extended her toes to the ledge where Isabelle waited. She released one hand and held it out for Isabelle, after that, she gracefully fell into a crouch on the sill. The glamour on her wings fell away and the translucent green flickered in the moonlight.

She could see the moment that Isabelle understood the plan. The woman looked over the ledge, then to Cara, gesturing wildly. Cara’s wings fluttered, and she held out her hands to Isabelle who looked down one more time.

Isabelle looked too big to carry for someone as petite as Cara, but she managed to pick her up. Isabelle’s long legs hooked around Cara’s hips, and her arms around her neck. Áine held her breath as Cara’s wings spread out, just before she stepped off the ledge. For most Seelies, their wings didn’t actually support flight, most with wings could hover a bit and that was the extent of it. Cara’s supported actual flight, however, with the additional weight of Isabelle the wings slowed their descent but Cara still landed hard, falling to her knees, Isabelle dropping from her arms.

Áine and Niv rushed to them, Isabelle quick to get to her feet, and Niv pulled Cara up, the Seelie hissing in the flair of pain, her knees bleeding from the secondary impact of the fall. “I’m fine,” she insisted staring at Áine.

Although being ‘fine’ was a matter of opinion, Áine nodded. “We need to move,” she said. “The wolves will have bought us time, we best not waste it.”

::

Isabelle paced inside of Garroway Books. Niv had brought down a first aid kit from one of the upstairs apartments, and Áine had taken to cleaning and bandaging the Cara’s wounds. “How is your back?” Isabelle asked, reminded by the sight of the gauze.

“Slight discomfort, but no longer gaping holes,” Áine replied, her hands steady as she pressed around the edges of the bandage to insure they had stuck to Cara’s skin.

The bell over the door chimed, Isabelle’s whip coiled on the floor, the handle gripped tight as she turned. Her entire body relaxed. “Simon,” she whispered, walking to him, the whip dragging on the floor. She hugged him tight, relieved to see one of her friends in one piece. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too, Izzy,” he replied, squeezing just a bit in a way Isabelle found comforting.

She pulled back. “Luke and the werewolves should be here soon.”

Simon nodded, but looked sad. “How are we going to find them? The entire Clave wants Valentine found, but haven’t had any luck.”

Isabelle wished Magnus was still around, he always seemed to have an idea. His magic also helped. “I don’t know, I was thinking maybe checking out the City of Bones for myself. Maybe I’d see something, a clue,” she almost muttered to herself.

The door opened again, and Luke and Alaric joined them. Luke smiled, and greeted both her and Simon. Alaric on the other hand just looked annoyed. He looked over her shoulder and raised a brow at Áine. “Is she okay?”

“She is fine,” Cara answered. “And perfectly capable of answering for herself.”

Áine pinched a piece of Cara’s hair and gave it a playful tug. “She’s fine. Although, let’s not have any reason to try that feat again.”

“It was _your_ idea,” Cara argued with a little smirk.

“Can we focus,” Alaric snapped. “We just broke a Shadowhunter out of an Institute on lockdown, it won’t take them long to figure out we were a part of it, and for them to come here.”

“Okay, anyone have any ideas how to find our loved ones?” Isabelle asked.

“Well, I didn’t break you out for nothing,” Áine said. “There are a few things I need you to get from the realm of the Faerie.”

“Can it wait-“

“It could help us,” Áine argued. “And you wear runes, with the current political climate with the Clave, Seelies would not harm you if you told them you were there on official business.”

“Alright,” Isabelle said slowly. “What do you need?”

Áine turned to look at Niv, who pulled out a folded piece of paper, and the most intricate gold key Isabelle had ever set her eyes on. She opened the sheet of paper and set it down on the front desk, it turned out to be a gorgeous map with incredible colours. She recognized a few of the landmarks on it from her time spent in the realm with Meliorn.

“I need you to go here,” Áine touched the spot on the map, and her magic flared, a little golden ‘x’ dissolving into the map which now displayed a little hut.

“Is it your place?” Isabelle asked.

“No. It was Niamh’s.” Áine passed Isabelle the key.

Isabelle turned it, staring in awe of the craftsmanship, the little leaves and flowers in pressed gold. “This is beautiful.”

“It was Niamh’s gift, creating beauty… and destruction, not always in equal measure,” Áine admitted. “Inside her home, you need to find the study. There will be a stone inlay on the book case, you need to press the amethyst, sunstone, serpentine, and lapis lazuli- in that order, do not mess it up.”

“Or what, a trap door will open and she’ll fall into a pit of spikes?” Simon said rather worriedly.

Áine raised a brow. “No. Anything but the correct order will emit an odorless gas into the room. It will kill a Seelie.” She turned to look at Isabelle. “I honestly am not sure what it would do to you. Death is likely however, so don’t mess it up.”

Isabelle grabbed a pen and wrote it down on her palm, just in case. “Right, now what do I do after that?”

“The book case will swing outward, so step back,” Áine replied. “Ignore the stairs going down, turn to your right, and take the stairs going up. On the top floor you’ll be able to find a series of glass cases. That key will also get you into them. There will be a unit full of vials, find one with the waters of Lake Lyn.”

“Okay.” Isabelle nodded. “A little vision questing?”

“It couldn’t hurt given our current predicament,” Áine replied. “Next, there will be a weapons case. I need a rapier until I can get mine back. If there is anything that strikes your fancy, take it.”

Isabelle swallowed hard, feeling a little guilty about being sent to rob the dead. “Is there anything that might help our search?”

“The last case there will be a series of gold, silver, and a few obsidian objects. Don’t touch anything that is black. I’m not sure what all of them do, and the ones that I do know are… unstable. She never figured out how to properly dispose of the failures.” Áine paused, although her face remained emotionless, Isabelle could tell how much it hurt her to speak of Niamh’s belongings as if she never cared for the woman.

Isabelle gently touched Áine’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

“I will make the Queen pay for what she has done. Then I may grieve what I have lost. Not now.” She brushed away the hand, but Isabelle caught the small, but grateful smile. “You’ll want to grab a small silver piece, it looks much like a mundane pocket watch. She called it, _‘cuardaigh anam.’_ ”

“What does that mean?” Simon asked.  

“Soul Search,” Áine informed him. “It might be helpful, it might spin around in circles, but it’s worth a shot.”  

“Agreed, anything else?” Isabelle asked, eager to get moving, desperate to find her brother’s and friends.  

Áine looked at war with herself before nodding. “There are a series of golden balls, all in the same kind of filigree as most of Niamh’s work. They’re explosives. There should be a grey case on a work table that fits them.”  

Isabelle’s eyebrows rose but nodded. “Fine by me.”  

“And this,” Áine stood and pulled a strange looking coin from her pocket. “Should anyone try to keep you there, this will work as a great bargaining chip.”  

“Doesn’t look like much,” Isabelle said, flipping the coin over her fingers and then into the palm of her hand.  

“Sometimes the things that look the least impressive, end up being the most,” Áine replied cryptically. “Now come, we need to move, the moon should be in place soon and you need to be at the pond when it does if you want to get into the realm tonight.”


	16. Chapter 16

It took a moment for Isabelle to get her bearings after dropping through the access point to the realm of Faerie. The colours were overly saturated and she blinked a few times waiting for her eyes to become accustom to the light, especially having just come from the Mundane Plane where it was late at night.

She looked for the landmarks that Áine had noted. Sure enough, the wisteria tree stood alone, a beacon guiding her. Isabelle tucked the map into the back pocket of her black jeans and walked toward it. Her fingers touched the soft pink petals, the soft scent of the blooms making her feel peaceful. It would be easy to just sit under the tree and enjoy the peacefulness of the moment. Instead, she trudged on.

The accuracy of the map, and Áine’s landmarks made the relatively short journey to the little hut easy. The key twisted in the lock and allowed her entry. Despite how small the hut looked from the outside, it had an impressive sprawl inside. The wood and stone work took Isabelle’s breath away. There were plants in the window sill, dried leaves all around, few still hanging on to the branches or stems. She found a cup of water, and soaked the earth they laid in.

All around was evidence of a life cut short. A bookmark held the place in a story that a woman would never finish reading. She touched the intricate cover of the book, that laid on the long harvest table in the expansive kitchen. Walking through the house, she found more of the woman’s life; paintings of incredible landscapes, tiny bits of carved gold, a whittler’s knife and a half finished stag.

It took a while, but she found the study. The bookcases stood at least three feet taller than Isabelle, and had a ladder that rolled from one side of the wall to the other. Her attention diverted to the crystal on the desk, the one that had been faintly pulsing blue. She had read of such things, it was a memory crystal. Seelies, and occasionally Warlocks infused their magic with a crystal, imbedding it with a memory they wished to preserve for their long life. She knew she shouldn’t, that it was an invasion of privacy, that she really had no business doing it, but curiosity gripped her tight. She looked around, half expecting to be caught, before she reached out for the crystal.

Images flickered in her mind. Áine’s smile just before she looked down. A man who had slightly grey-ish skin and unnaturally red hair opening his eyes revealing blue eyes that blew out past the edge of the iris eating the whites of his eyes, pupils dilating. Áine again, a sheet barely over her body _–I’ll miss you, when this is over-_ Áine’s voice held a wistfulness. _–You think we will end-_ another voice asked. Áine looked up, a soft smile on her face, _–My beautiful Niamh, your love was not meant for me, but I will love you until them.-_ A flicker of colours before they came together into an impressive Faerie field of flowers and long grass. The man again, an intricate gold collar locking around his neck. _–I trust you, absolutely, my dear.-_ His voice too deep for his boyish looks.

The room came back to her, and Isabelle set the crystal down. She wondered, belatedly, if Áine would appreciate the crystal being returned to her. The memories looked like such small, almost insignificant moments to Isabelle. However, she also understood the power of love, and that was what was really on the crystal. Memories of lovers, of those Niamh had cared for deeply. Deciding it best not to let the crystal fall into the wrong hands, she placed it in the satchel.

She looked at her hand. _Amethyst, sunstone, serpentine, lapis lazuli._ She repeated it over, and over in her mind as she looked at the stones. Eventually she found the four stones she needed and pressed them in succession before taking a step back as Áine had warned her to do. The bookcase made a clicking sound as the locking mechanism turned over, and then swung out easily. Nodding to herself, she made her way to the staircase, and climbed them two at a time.

::

Magnus woke with a start. He couldn’t tell what it was that made him jump. Not pain, at least, which was a nice change. His magic had reached capacity, and he could feel it just under his skin. He took a deep breath, refocussed it closer to his center, afraid of the debilitating pain it would cause if he dared so much as create a spark.

A little murmur caught his attention, and in the dim light from the bathroom, he saw Clary turn her face more into Alec’s shoulder, her lips moving like she spoke too quick, but no sound actually came out. “Clary,” he whispered softly, not wanting to wake Alec, however the man’s eyes immediately opened at the sound of Magnus’s voice. “Sorry, Darling.”

Instead of answering, Alec pressed his lips against Magnus’s temple, and it did more to calm his frayed nerves than Magnus would ever want to admit. The angel blood in his Shadowhunter worked on healing him faster than Mundane standards, but still too slow without an Iratze.

Clary made a soft hissing sound. Her hand, which Magnus hadn’t noticed before over his own, balled into a fist, her nails raking across his skin when she did it. Instinctually, he pulled his hand back to his chest as her fisted hand now laid over the soft cotton of Alec’s t-shirt.

“How long has she been like this?” Alec asked quietly.

“Not sure, she just woke me up,” Magnus admitted. He saw the tremor run up her arm, and his heart went out to the strong woman who couldn’t protect herself from the apparent nightmares this entire traumatic experience had brought. He reached out, grabbing her fisted hand. “Clary? Wake up, Biscuit.” When that didn’t work, he gave her shoulder a little shake. “Clary, Clary wake up.”

The woman’s eyes remained closed, and her breath became laboured, as she turned away from Alec, and would have fallen out of bed completely if Alec’s arm under her neck hadn’t supported her upper body, and Magnus’s hands hand shot out to grab her thigh and roll her back to safety.

“Clary, wake up.” Unlike Magnus’s soft tone trying to gently bring her to full wakefulness, Alec’s voice was hard and commanding. “Clary!” He shook her again, but still she remained in her fitful sleep. Alec’s eyes turned to Magnus, and with the light reflecting off his eyes, Magnus saw the barely contained panic there. “Did Valentine give her something at dinner?”

“Jocelyn cooked,” Magnus said. “And we all drank from the same pitcher; it’s unlikely he could have spiked anything.”

Alec remained quiet, holding tight to Clary as if he thought she’d nearly roll off the bed again. “What about her glass?”

“He didn’t tell us where to sit,” Magnus argued. “It could have then gone to any of us. Besides, he seems to genuinely want to keep Jocelyn and Clary safe and… I won’t say happy, perhaps ‘compliant’ is the better word.”

“Damn it,” Alec muttered.

Magnus slipped out of bed. “I’ll grab a glass of water, maybe that’ll do the-“

Clary gasped and sat up straight, looking wildly around the room.

“Clary!” Magnus let out a sigh of relief. “We couldn’t wake you, we were getting so worried! Are you alright?”

She threw her legs over the side of the bed, stood, and whirled around on them. “I figured it out!”

“What?” Alec’s face scrunched adorably as he stared at her with confusion as he sat up.

“Figured what out?” Magnus asked.

“If we can get a Stele, I can get us out of here. I saw a rune,” Clary said, speaking quickly. “A new rune. A rune for a portal.”

“O-kay, you need to go back to sleep,” Alec shook his head, his shoulders drooping. “There is no rune for teleportation.”

“A new rune, are you listening, I said-“

“I heard you the first time,” Alec replied irritably. “But that isn’t possible. There aren’t just ‘new runes’ Clary. We have the runes from the Grey Book. Runes handed down from the angel Raziel. We don’t create them. We use the ones we were given.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you want out of here, or not?”

Alec groaned. “I swear, you’re going to get us all killed. Of course I want out of here. I want to do so with everyone in one piece. We need more information-“

“We can’t keep biding time,” Clary argued. “We need a Stele. We need to escape this place!”

“You think I don’t know that,” Alec snapped, and then took a deep breath.

“I think we need to talk about this in much quieter voices,” Magnus said, barely above a whisper in hopes the other two would follow suit. He stepped around the foot of the bed he’d shared to stand between the one he and Alec had claimed, and Clary’s.  “The last thing we need is to be overheard talking about trying to escape.”

Alec rubbed his temples, and Clary deflated a little as she sat down on the side of her bed. “I’m scared, Alec,” Clary admitted softly. “I want to go home. This will work, I know it will.”

Magnus looked over at Alec, and saw the fight turn to defeat. Although Magnus was quite sure she hadn’t intended on hitting Alec’s weak spot, she had. She had admitted fear, and of course, he wanted nothing more than to protect her.

Alec pushed his hair back, and let out a sigh. He looked to Magnus, but his eyes locked onto the collar around his neck. With his features hardened, he turned back to Clary. “If you can get us out of here. I think I can get a Stele.”

“How?” Magnus asked.

“Best if you don’t know,” Alec muttered. “Just let me handle it, okay?” He looked to Clary specifically. “You, don’t do anything stupid.”

Clary huffed out an annoyed breath. “Rude.”

Alec rolled his eyes in silent response.

Magnus couldn’t help the little twitch at the corner of his lips that wanted to burst into a full smile. The two were ridiculous. They obviously cared for each other, but argued like real brothers and sisters. He secretly thought it rather adorable.

“We should get some more sleep,” Magnus suggested, although he felt well rested, Clary didn’t look it.

The girl nodded, and this time slipped into her own bed. Magnus sat on the side of the bed by Alec’s thighs, just waiting until Clary’s breathing evened out. “And what plan do you have?”

“I don’t really have one,” Alec admitted in a soft whisper. “But I don’t want her to worry more than necessary. I’ll figure it out.”  His long archer’s fingers slipped through Magnus’s. “I’m going to do everything I can to get you out of here, I swear on the Angel, I will.”

The promise hit Magnus with surprising force, and he felt a surge of adoration for his Shadowhunter. “I know, Alexander, I know.” They’d both fallen fast and hard. It was hard to believe it wasn’t so long ago they were on their first date, and everything since had been a whirlwind. Hardship tended to make or break bonds, and theirs were becoming stronger with every passing moment.

Magnus felt Alec tense and a second later heard the approaching footsteps. “Not Jace,” Alec whispered. Magnus didn’t ask how Alec knew, he just took his word for it. Alec quickly slipped out of bed, and grabbed Clary’s arm. “Wake up,” he whispered loudly. Her tired eyes opened, and she glared at him- clearly unamused by being woken up right after falling back to sleep. “Someone’s outside the door.”

The redhead sat up and the three of them stared at the door as it swung open. Valentine, along with the male warlock they still didn’t have a name for, stood in the doorway. “Good, you’re all awake. Come with me.”

Without much of an option, the three of them followed Valentine through the house, the warlock walked behind them, and Magnus could feel the press of the other’s magic, the silent threat of it if any of them tried anything. Valentine unlocked a room, inside, children were running around, a few of them were sparring under Jocelyn’s guidance. “They need more trainers.” Valentine motioned Alec in first and then Clary, putting a hand up to stop Magnus from joining them. “I need you elsewhere.”

Magnus saw the panicked looks on both Alec’s and Clary’s faces as they turned around, both trying to get to the door but not fast enough. Valentine slammed it shut, and Magnus could hear their fists beating against it, their shouts muffled but angry. “Come with me, Warlock.”

Alone, without his magic, Magnus couldn’t deny his own terror. With no other option, he followed Valentine, trying just to keep his breath steady. He thought of his brave Alexander, and held to thoughts of him as they descended the stairs.

::

Robert Lightwood still had a few allies in the Institute. There were quite a few Shadowhunters that wanted Aldertree gone. Lydia was one of them, arguing the man’s points at every meeting. Penelope, Jack, and Brian were among other allies. Surprisingly, former Inquisitor Imogen Herondale also joined them. The small group of allies met in the kitchen, the door locked and silencing runes drawn on.

“The man is a tyrant,” Brian complained from his seat. Aldertree had maintained the lockdown, and was requisitioning everyone again while demons roamed unchecked. He also continued to repeat the fact that Jace, Jocelyn, Clary, and Alec were all traitors to the Clave. They all knew that the man wanted to keep Robert locked up, however, he would anger too many Shadowhunters considering there was no evidence Robert had done anything.

“The law is hard but it is the law,” Jack reminded his brother. The Goldbrooks were a sturdy sort of Shadowhunter, all of them with short, stocky builds and strong family resemblance with their square jaws, a mop of dark brown hair, and wide noses. “However, I don’t believe what Aldertree is doing is entirely lawful.”

“He’s been given too much power as the Inquisitor,” Penelope said, as she continued her task of peeling an orange. “Absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

“We need to bring up our concerns with Consul Penhallow,” Lydia said. “She’s the only one who can overpower him at this stage.”

“Aldertree won’t like us going over his head,” Brian said. “If she doesn’t side with us, and there is a good chance she won’t, we’re all going to be in hot water over this.”

“Don’t be so sure she won’t assist,” Imogen said quietly. “The woman has backbone.”

“My children aren’t traitors,” Robert said, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “Jocelyn… she hated what Valentine became. She was the reason the uprising came to a halt. She would never join him. If they are with Valentine, they aren’t there willingly.”

“We need to find them,” Imogen said. It was clear, the former Inquisitor was hurt by the fact that the grandson she barely knew was once again in the clutches of the man who had raised him. He was in the clutches of a monster.

“We also need to find a way out of the lockdown,” Lydia said. “We can’t do much inside of these walls, and the demon situation is getting worse every time I look at the monitors.”

“Aldertree needs to call in other Shadowhunters to deal with that,” Jack said. “We can’t be lettin’ the demons have our streets.”

Lydia smirked. “Well then, I best call in those who might be more sympathetic to us.”

“Behind Aldertree’s back?” Brian asked.

“Naturally,” Lydia replied.

Brian grinned and playfully elbowed his brother. “This one, I like this one.” Jack rolled his eyes in return.

::

Clary stepped back from the door, and ran her hands through her hair. A scream of frustration found its way past her lips before she found herself wrapped up in the arms of her mother. Only then did she realize she was crying. She buried her face against her mother’s shoulder, desperate for comfort. She could hear Alec’s fists still banging on the door with surprising force, his hoarse shouts reminding her of his already ruined vocal cords.

She stepped back from her mother, and looked around. The children had stopped what they were doing and were staring at them in various stages of shock. Taking a deep breath, she turned from them. She grabbed Alec’s arm, but he was stronger, able to shake her off and keep hitting the door.

“Alec, Alec, stop. You’re hurting yourself.” Clary instead moved around him, under his arm and put herself back against the door. He paused and glared down at her. “Stop Alec, you aren’t helping anyone like this.”

“Clary. Move.”

“Alec. I need you.” She grabbed his hand, he’d been pounding the sides of his fists against the door, and she was pleased to see his skin was still intact if not a little red. “You need to keep a cool head.”

“He took Magnus.”

“I know, but banging on the door and screaming isn’t going to change that.”

Alec appeared to consider her words, and all of a sudden, the tension ran out of him. “You’re right.” He glanced over and nodded at Jocelyn. Then for the first time looked at the children. He let out a sigh, and looked older than his years. “There has to be a way out of here.”

“There isn’t,” Jocelyn said with a frown. “Trust me, I would have found it.”

The young man just slid with his back against the door until he sat on the floor. “If he thinks I’m training his soldiers, I’m not.”

Jocelyn crouched in front of Alec, and Clary, as well as most of the children, watched curiously. “I’m not training his soldiers, Alec. I’m training kids to defend themselves. It might be their only shot in this world.”

Alec looked around, then nodded, and got to his feet. “If I can’t help Magnus, I better help them,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This week has been nuts. I didn't even have time to proofread. Sorry.

They spent what felt like hours, training the children. Alec didn’t ask for names, he didn’t comfort, he couldn’t. He taught them where to hit to cause the most pain, showed them how to use their smaller size to their advantage, put them through drills with perhaps a bit too much aggression. They took it. They moved like the little Shadowhunters they were. They didn’t yet wear runes, but they would. They also complicated matters in his head. While Clary insisted she could make a portal rune, how would they all get out? They’d been separated nearly the entire time. Jocelyn with the children. Jace often out with Jonathan. He couldn’t strategize with so many unknown factors.

Clary helped a little girl back to her feet, and then showed her the proper foot position for defense. Alec watched as she tucked a stray piece of the girl’s hair behind her ear. Clary was soft, and kind, and compassionate. He glanced over at Jocelyn who swung a wooden staff, knocking a child off his feet. The boy didn’t complain, he sprung back to his feet, and found his weapon. Jocelyn was fierce determination, and bottled anger. Over the past few days, her training had clearly come back to her, she moved as if she’d never lived a day as a mundane.

Alec moved around the room correcting some of the kids who were going through exercises that Jocelyn had already taught them. Some of them were around Max’s age, some even younger. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Did they have parents? Loved ones of any kind? Were they the lost souls gathered from the streets, or broken homes?

A thought of Jace came to him. Jace at the age of ten; a duffle bag in hand, and horrors in his eyes. He’d warmed up quickly to Alec, and they’d become inseparable. Even as Alec looked around he saw evidence of the horrible situation bringing those kids close together, they were leaning on each other for support, for comfort, and perhaps even for basic survival.

The door opened and everyone froze. The warlock from earlier stood in the doorway. “You two,” he pointed to Clary and Alec. “It is time to return to your room.”

Alec, who once ran the New York Institute in his parents absence- and with them were delegates of the New York Conclave, who went on missions to slay literal demons since he was sixteen, who had taken control of his life and kissed a warlock at his would-be wedding, did not like being told what to do. His hands clenched into loose fists, eyes narrowed on the man.

“Where is Magnus?” he demanded. He could feel the eyes of the children, some of them moving out of his way as he stepped forward. Whatever they saw on his face made them step back with fear.

The warlock looked unimpressed. “In the bedroom.”

Alec swallowed hard and glanced at Clary who shrugged. She turned to her mother, giving her a quick hug. Words were whispered between them, but Alec didn’t hear it. With Clary, he stepped out of the training room. He glanced back to see the children with their wooden weapons around Jocelyn but all staring at the door as it shut and locked.

“I’m sure you remember the way,” the warlock said. “Move.”

Alec’s long strides forced Clary quicken her pace to keep up. “Why are you doing this? Why are you working for Valentine?” Clary asked, keeping up, but looking over her shoulder every now and then.

“We all have our reasons, little girl.”

“She has a name,” Alec said to Clary’s obvious surprise.

“Yes, Clari-“

“You’re not worthy of speaking it, Downworlder” Alec said gruffly, and it earned him a questioning glance from Clary.

The Warlock’s magic felt like a heavy weight on his shoulders. “Watch what you say, boy.”

Alec paused and turned to face the man, hoping that the effects of the Warlock’s magic weren’t affecting Clary too. He didn’t want to see her punished for him pushing, for him enticing anger hoping for a mistake, hoping for more information.  “I’m a Shadowhunter. I don’t _obey_ Downworlders. Just like how you _kneel_ to Valentine, you know that Shadowhunters are the ones in control.”

He saw the anger burning in the Warlock’s eyes, the magic feeling heavier, but Alec bore it. “He doesn’t even call you by name, does he? Warlock. Downworlder.” Alec smirked. “You’re nothing.”

“Says the man sleeping with a Warlock,” the man said, tendrils of his magic going unchecked.

 _Not true, but…_ “He knows his place is _under me._ ”

“I can’t wait till Valentine decides you’re no longer worth keeping alive,” the warlock spat the words, his lip curled up.

“I’m sure you’ll outlive your usefulness before I do,” Alec retorted, even as the magic grew.  “I’m a Shadowhunter, and automatically worth so much more than you. And just wait- he’ll kill you long before me.”

“You know nothing!” He shouted, his magic becoming too much and Alec collapsed to his knees, Clary gasping and seemingly pinned against the wall. “I am valued. I know the secrets of the Seelies. I’m the one who can transfer power to the Orb. I will be the one to return Warlocks to their former glory.”

Alec forced a laugh. “By being Valentine’s bitch?”

The man crouched and grabbed Alec’s chin, glamour falling and the talon-like fingers dug into his skin, but not enough to break it. “He knows who is loyal. He knows who his friends are. Warlocks and Seelies will destroy the Clave, and a new world order will be born.”

“You’re insane. He’ll kill you. He hates Downworlders.”

The man just smiled, his glamour returning as he stood and took a step back. The magic dissipated. “Back to your room, little boy.”

::

Isabelle took a breath as she stepped out from the pond. It was strange that going in to the Seelie Realm she always ended up dry, but coming out the water saturated her clothes and left them sticking to her skin. She kept a tight grip on the satchel, which had collected some of the water, as she walked out.

Simon stripped off his jacket and put it over her shoulders. The residual warmth made her sigh. “Thanks,” she breathed.

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

“Did you have any trouble?” Áine asked.

“None, didn’t see a soul,” Isabelle replied. “I got everything you asked for.” The handle of a rapier stuck out of the bag, and she pulled it out. “This was the only one there. Not as fancy as your old one-“

“It’ll do the trick,” Áine replied, accepting the blade. “My coin?”

“Oh, yeah,” Isabelle reached into the pockets of her soaked black jeans, and pulled out the coin. “Here.”

Áine tucked it into her own pocket. “Now, where can we go that the Clave won’t look for us?”

“Well, Seelies and Werewolves were the ones to break Isabelle out,” Luke said, and then turned pointedly to Simon.

“What?” he asked, shrugging in his t-shirt which read, _‘What doesn’t kill you, gives you XP.’_ His eyes then widened. “Oh. OH! Because vampires are notoriously enemies with werewolves the Clave would never look for us at the Hotel Dumort!” He gave his wide smile, and nodded, pulling out his phone. “I’ll text Raphael.”

::

When Alec stepped through the bedroom door, he immediately sought out Magnus, but he wasn’t on either of the beds. The faucet in the bathroom was running however, so he walked over and tapped on the door. “Magnus?”

A few seconds later the water stopped, and the door opened. Magnus looked entirely too pale, too tired, too weak, he reached out for Alec, who quickly pulled the Warlock to his chest. “Magnus, what happened?”

“I-I’m not sure,” he admitted. “We went down a staircase. After that, things get a little fuzzy.”

Alec pushed some of Magnus’s hair aside, the lack of product in the strands leaving it to fall in his face. “Can you remember anything? Anything at all?”

“The room was small. Windowless,” Magnus sighed, the warm breath tickling Alec’s neck. “There was a chair… and I-I think they made me sit in it. Then something happened. Something pulled at my magic. It was… It…” Magnus practically vibrated in Alec’s arms. “My magic isn’t gone, but it’s completely depleted again. Everything on the way back here is fuzzy. I must have passed out at one point. I woke up on the bed.”

Alec closed his eyes, and breathed in the scent of the Warlock. He feared what went unsaid. He doubted the syphoning of that much energy was painless. A Warlock’s magic was an integral part of their being. To have even a fraction of it pulled away had to be excruciating. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Magnus said. Clary stood just outside of the door, and she supported Magnus’s other side as they lead his weak body to the closest bed.

“Transfer power,” Alec muttered.

“What?” Magnus asked.

“The Warlock, I got him talking a bit-“

“By antagonizing him,” Clary said. “Which could have gotten you hurt.”

“Sometimes, you have to take that risk,” Alec said with a shrug. “But he said something, something about transferring power to ‘the Orb.’ Did you see something like that?”

Magnus squinted a little, and looked like he was trying hard to recall something. “No. I don’t- but I only remember looking at Valentine. The Warlock stood behind me. I never actually saw him once we were in the room. He… he left the room briefly, to get something. I never saw what it was.”

“Must have been the orb.”

“What does it do?”

“I don’t know,” Alec said. “But he mentioned it being Seelie, and if they’re fueling it with Warlock magic, it can’t be anything good.”

::

Lydia sat in Maryse’s office, the Goldbrook brothers were stationed at either end of the hall to keep Aldertree away while she sent fire messages.  She first messaged Bryn Penrose, whom Lydia knew she could count on. The head of the Northern Institute was a powerful ally to have.

 Robert had been sure the Blackthorns of the Los Angeles Institute would be of great assistance, and everyone knew that the Lightwoods and Blackthorns had been loyal to one another for generations.

At the insistence of Imogen she wrote to Consul Jia Penhallow. That letter had Lydia checking and double-checking. She held her breath as she set it alight with a rune, the fire eating up the paper, sending it away.

The Goldbrook brothers insisted that that John and Cordelia Carstairs would also be willing to assist- they had bad blood with Aldertree, although admitted they weren’t sure what about- and they were also loyal to the Blackthorns Robert was so sure would come.

Lydia reached out to a few more people she knew, unsure of how many would come. All she could do now, was wait.   


	18. Chapter 18

Lydia didn’t bother to try and hide the smirk on her face when Bryn Penrose walked into the Institute dressed in an incredible navy pantsuit, her hair auburn hair pulled up into a complex bun. Flanked by a moderate entourage of Shadowhunters, she walked forward, three inch stilettos clicking with her steps.

Aldertree appeared confused and stepped in front of her. “Who are you?”

“Bryn Penrose, co-head of the Northern Institute,” she replied, looking him over. “And who are you?”

“Victor Aldertree, head of the New York Institute,” Aldertree’s skin took on a reddish tone. “Now what are you doing here?”

“Fixing your mess,” she said sharply. Their exchange had gathered the attention of the rest of the Shadowhunters. Everyone had stopped work to stare. “Your little lockdown is causing massive problems. You have demons running unchecked in your streets. Given our relatively close geographical locations, your lack of initiative-“

“Lack of-“

Her hand went up and her eyes narrowed. “I am not done,” she snarled. “You aren’t doing your job! My streets are getting more and more dangerous because you’re not handling your end of things. We’re not just having low level demons, but Greater Demons. I’ve had three funerals for our brothers and sisters in the past week, and I have had enough. If you won’t run New York, I will.”

“I always forget how much of a hard ass Bryn is,” Robert muttered to Lydia.

“Most people do,” Lydia whispered back. Bryn was kind, and soft spoken, however her intelligence, leadership skills, and her unwillingness to back down made her a great Institute Head.

Aldertree’s arms crossed over his chest. “You can’t just walk in here and take over. I’m not only the Institute head. I’m the Inquisitor.”

Bryn’s slow smile told everyone she had another card to play. “But you’re not the Consul.”

“Neither are you,” Aldertree snapped.

The woman looked over her shoulder and as if on cue, a portal opened and four Shadowhunters stepped through. Consul Jia Penhallow, her daughter Aline, and two shadowhunters Lydia recognized but couldn’t recall names for stepped in. “Bryn, you managed to make it here before me.”

Bryn nodded respectfully to the Consul. “I want to get started as soon as possible.”

“Of course,” Jia looked to Aldertree. “You’ve had your time to run this ship, and you ran it into the ground. I will oversee this institute personally. Bryn, work with your colleagues for the time being. Team them with New York Shadowhunters who know the lay of the land, and the local power players.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Bryn replied, casting a smirk Aldertree’s way.

A portal opened at the entrance way, and two figures stepped out. “Ah, John, Cordelia,” Jia smiled. “Good to see you both.”

Lydia caught the satisfied looks on the Goldbrook brother’s faces. The Carstairs were in conversation with Jia Penhallow, but the words were lost to the gossipy noise of the Institute. She nudged Robert. “While it doesn’t look like the Los Angeles Institute could spare Andrew Blackthorn, we have to count this as a win. Aldertree is off his game now.”

“About damn time,” Robert replied with a curt nod. “Now, I need to check on Max. Who knows what that kid can get into if you give him five minutes and a stele.”

Lydia bit her tongue to keep her smile from growing too wide.

::

“This place feels like the Faerie realm,” Magnus said. He sat with his legs folded under him on the bed, his knee touched Alec’s thigh. The casual touch soothed him. “Time doesn’t seem quite the same.”

“Maybe it isn’t,” Alec said, with a half shrug. He appeared annoyed with the entire situation, and the apparent lack of a plan.

Magnus considered it for a moment. “Could be some kind of pocket- either demonic or Faerie in origin.”

“That makes me feel so optimistic,” Clary said dryly from where she laid on her back, her bright hair spilling over the pillows. “If that’s the case, we can’t ever be found.”

“Then we just have to escape,” Alec said as though he were talking about grabbing a morning coffee.

Clary glanced over at him. “We need a stele. They don’t let us near them. Or weapons.”

“Jace gets weapons when he goes with Jonathan,” Alec said. “Maybe he can manage to sneak one in.”

“Maybe,” Magnus said, but he wasn’t too hopeful for that possibility. “But even if three of you were armed, there is Valentine, the demon-blooded Jonathan, and two warlocks who seem to have a death wish. I don’t believe fighting our way out is really an option.”

“I hate waiting,” Clary said. “I wish there was something we could do!”

The door unlocked with a loud ‘click,’ they all stopped talking. The door swung open and Valentine stood there. “Jocelyn says dinner will be done soon,” he said looking at Clary. “Come on.”

Clary rolled her eyes, but stood. Alec and Magnus followed. The hallways were becoming more familiar. The familiarity didn’t make them feel better. The windows only displayed some kind of swirling fog.

In the dining room, the table was set a basket of bread, a bowl of salad, and two lasagnas were set out. Jonathan sat at the table, while Jace leaned against the wall.

Jace walked to them once they were in the room. He took Clary’s hand, but looked at Alec. “Are you okay?”

Alec raised a brow. Jace touched his hip. The taller one nodded, his eyes turning to Magnus, then back to Jace. The blonde raised his brow, but Alec shook his head.

“Later,” Alec said. Magnus hadn’t been able to follow their conversation, but the two boys nodded, an understanding between them clearly met.

“Everyone, sit down,” Valentine said. He grabbed Jocelyn’s hand. “The meal looks lovely.”

She tugged her hand, but his tight grip didn’t let up. Magnus felt incredibly uncomfortable watching the exchange. The power play between them showed Valentine’s clear upper hand.

Valentine kissed the back of her hand before finally releasing her. “You always were a great cook.”

Jocelyn took a deep breath, and while Magnus saw the fire in her eyes, she managed to refrain from saying anything back.

::

Robert checked the Infirmary first. He found Max sitting on the chair next to his mother’s bed. Beside him was a woman with pale white-gold hair that fell in ringlets. She wore black gear, runes decorated the skin of her arms, and one peeked out from under the low collar of her shirt.  Her blue-green eyes shifted from Max to Robert.

Max too noticed him and smiled. “Hey Dad, this is Helen.”

The petite woman turned, and extended a hand. “Mr. Lightwood, my father sends his regards.”

Robert accepted the hand, and shook it. “I figured after the Carstairs arrived, we wouldn’t be getting anymore help from the Los Angeles Institute.”

“Mark and I were finishing on another assignment when the request came in, we arrived a little late,” Helen explained.

His eyes shifted from Helen, to his wife, then back again, Robert raised a brow. “And what are you doing in here?”

“Max grabbed me as I walked by,” Helen said. “I was going to meet with Jia, but sent Mark ahead. He said something was happening with his mother.”

“Her fingers moved, Dad,” Max insisted.

“She also appears to have some rapid eye movement,” Helen said with the slightest shrug. “I’m not a medic, I don’t know if it’s a good thing, or a bad thing.”

At that moment, another blonde head poked in. The young man’s resemblance to Helen told Robert that this had to be her brother, Mark. They had similar fine features, strong cheekbones, and pointed ears. Their blue-green eyes met, and almost at the same time did they give small smiles in greeting. “If you’re done here, we’ve been assigned Gramercy Park with a few others.”

Helen nodded. “Alright.” She turned to Max, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It was good to meet you, Max. I hope your mom wakes soon.”

Max smiled up at her. “Thanks, Helen.”

She nodded to Robert, and he patted her shoulder as she passed to join her brother. When the door shut behind the two, Robert walked over to his wife and took her hand. His thumb brushed over her knuckles. Maryse looked too small, too frail against the stark white sheets, and under the florescent glow of the lights above. His hand tightened on hers, and to his surprise, her fingers tightened in return.

::

Once the door shut behind the four of them, Jace turned to his parabatai. “What the hell happened, Alec?”

“What are you two talking about?” Clary asked.

Neither answered Clary, but continued an intense staring contest. Alec finally sighed. “They took Magnus, Jace.”

Jace’s eyes turned to Magnus briefly, scanning him over for some kind of visible injury, then back to his parabatai. “That explains it.”

Clary crossed her arms. “Explains what.”

“Nothing,” Alec said, stepping further into the room.

“Why I started feeling so panicky.” Jace ran his hand through his hair. “It hit so strongly that it took me a minute to realize it wasn’t my own emotion.”

“Can we not talk about this-“

“The fact that our parabatai bond has gotten so strong that we’re rather inconveniently feeling way more through it than we should be?” Jace tucked his hands into his pockets. “I love you, bro, but that fear shouldn’t have hit me like that. Something is off with our bond.”

“Well, one damn problem at a time,” Alec said. “They took Magnus. They syphoned off his magical energy to power some kind of Seelie orb.”

That gave Jace pause, he turned from his parabatai, back to Magnus. “How are you feeling?”

“Better now that I’ve eaten,” Magnus replied. “I’ll be back to full strength by tomorrow, I’m sure.”

“We have got to get out of here,” Alec leaned his shoulder against the wall, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “Something has got to give. Either you’re going to get hurt out there with Jonathan, or they’re going to keep doing this to Magnus, or Valentine is going to do something to Jocelyn or Clary.”

“Jace, do you think you could get your hands on a stele?” Clary asked.

“Doubt it. Jonathan carries one, but I’m lucky I get to go into a fight with a sword.” He sighed. “As much as it pains me to admit it, he bested me a little too easily in the Silent City. That demon blood makes him stronger and faster than he should be. Besides, a stele might get us out of this room, but then what?”

“I had a dream,” Clary said, and went onto explain the new rune.

Jace opened his mouth, and then closed it. He took a deep breath, and then held up his hands. “Look, here’s the thing-“

“I already explained there can’t be new runes,” Alec said.

Jace pointed to Alec. “That’s the thing, Clary.”

“I saw it. I saw it, and I know it will work, I need you to trust me.”

“I do trust you,” Jace said, taking her hands in his. “But this is unheard of. There isn’t a rune for portals-“ He cut himself off as he heard someone approach the door.

The group waited silently, until it opened. Jonathan stood in the doorway. “Ah, little sister,” he smiled. “Let’s take a walk.”

::

Raphael stood in the penthouse suite of the Hotel Dumort. He heard the small group climbing the stairs. The scent of werewolves made his nose wrinkle up. Huffing out an annoyed breath, Raphael drew the curtains as dawn approached. Under the scent of the wolves he could identify Simon. The sweet scent of angel blood followed the Lightwood girl. The three seelies brought with them the scent of flowers. Being more familiar with Áine’s made it easier to pinpoint her lilac scent reminded him of springtime, and sunlight.

Lily stood next to him, appearing unamused by his allies who walked through the open French doors. “For the record, I think this is a horrible idea.”

“Noted,” Raphael said. He didn’t look forward to her potentially getting to say, ‘I told you so,’ later. He walked forward to greet the guests. He glared at the werewolves, then looked to Simon. “If they do _anything_ while they’re here, you’re going to take every bit as much of the blame.”

Simon swallowed hard, and nodded.

Áine smirked. “You’re very sexy when you take charge.”

The words took Raphael off guard, and Luke snickered before he got himself in check. Raphael turned to Áine.

The Seelie shrugged. “What, it’s true.”

Not knowing quite what to say, he instead refocussed on Isabelle. “Have you found a way to find Magnus… and your Shadowhunter friends?”

“Maybe,” Isabelle pulled out the _cuardaigh anam_. “Apparently this can point us in the right direction.”

“It works with the map I showed you earlier,” Áine said. “Given you’re close enough to the person you’re searching for. However, you must have quite the impressive bond. It almost has to override every other bond you have.”

Isabelle stared down at the compass in hand, there was a needle inside, it spun, stopped, shook, spun, stopped, shook, spun. It was all over the place. “Alec, Jace, they’re my brothers.”

“Focus on them.”

The room had gone eerily quiet as they watched Isabelle shut her eyes. Her fingers tightened around the ornate piece. Raphael didn’t need to get closer to see it wasn’t working. The needle continued to point, then spin and point in another direction, then shake before whirling around and around. Isabelle opened one eye to look down, and shook her head. “It isn’t working.”

“Let me try,” Simon said. “Clary’s my best friend.”

She passed the device over, and like with Isabelle, everyone turned their attention to the young vampire. The needle never bothered to move. “Is this the right direction then?” Simon turned his body, but the needle still didn’t move.

Áine took it from him and the needle spun around and pointed right at Raphael. She quickly flipped it over in her hand. “Could be that it requires the one thing Seelies and Nephilim share to activate.”

“Angel blood,” Raphael said.

Testing the theory, Áine grabbed Raphael’s hand and put the device in his palm. It didn’t move. “Hmm,” she took it back.

“What about Luke?” Alaric asked. “He used to be a Shadowhunter.”

“Used to be,” Cara said. “He’s a werewolf now. His runes are no more, as is his tie to angels.”

“It’s literally called Soul Search,” Áine reminded them. “Niamh had the idea that we give bits of ourselves to our loved ones, but perhaps to be given a true direction you have to be searching for one who truly owns part of your soul.”

“Too bad none of them are your parabatai,” Simon said to Isabelle.

“So if I weren’t a werewolf, I could use it to track Valentine,” Luke said.

“In theory,” Áine said with a shrug.

“So this thing is useless,” Raphael said. Áine snatched it from his hand. “We’re no closer to finding them.”

::

Gramercy Park stood before them, locked. Yellow police tape crossed the fence.“So, you mean to tell me there is a park, but you need a key to get in,” Mark went to give the fence a shake but realized belatedly it was iron and pulled his hand back. Being part-seelie left him slightly vulnerable to the metal. “Rather exclusive.”

“And a mundane was killed inside. Due to the lockdown, shadowhunters didn’t get involved, and it’s being looked into by the mundane police,” Lydia said. “Ever since, this place hasn’t been touched, but our sensors display higher than usual demonic activity from inside.”

“Lovely.” He turned to look at his sister, and Aline who had walked around the park’s fence looking for anything out of the ordinary. The two girls had instantaneously gotten along, Aline lamenting that she’d never been to Los Angeles, and Helen promising to play tour guide if she was ever in the city. Given how much time Helen dedicated to training, or to helping out with their siblings, it was nice to see her making a new friend. “You two see anything?”

Helen shook her head. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Alright,” Lydia pulled out her stele. “Let’s go in and find whatever killed that mundane woman.” The Open Rune unlocked the gate and Lydia swung it open. “Be ready.”

Lydia led the way, Mark pulling out his blade as he followed. “After you,” Helen said. Mark glanced back to see his sister keeping the gate from swinging shut for Aline. He shook his head and returned his attention to the gravel path.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sick right now, so not even proofread- I'm going to nap. Sorry for the many mistakes I'm sure I made.

Robert spent hours in the Infirmary catching Maryse up on all the things she had missed while being unconscious. He drew runes on her skin to speed her recovery. He finished the last line of the Iratze he’d been working on to aid her pain before he looked up into her dark eyes. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered.

Maryse let out a sigh. “We need to find our children.”

“I know,” Robert replied. Isabelle sneaking out had nearly been his breaking point. He’d always doted on his princess, while tiny, she’d never been fragile. While he protected his sons, there was some fatherly instinct that was simply stronger, more defensive of his little girl. “I know Alec would never work with Valentine.”

“He could manipulate the parabatai bond between Jace and Alec,” Maryse whispered fearfully. “He’s a master of manipulation. Hurt one to hurt the other, they could be controlled that way. They’d never let anything happen to the other if there was any way to stop it.”

“Valentine also has Clary and Jocelyn… and Magnus.”

“We need to find them before they stop being useful to him,” Maryse said. “He has to have some kind of plan that involves them all being alive.”

“Aldertree has finally been maneuvered out of control, but Jia Penhallow is directly overseeing the Institute.” Robert twisted his family ring. “Still, we should be able to work around her and find them.”

“We’ll start with Isabelle, she’ll be the easiest,” Maryse struggled to sit up. “You should check on Max. Last thing we need is something happening to him too.”

Robert kissed Maryse on the temple. “I’ll be right back.”

::

Being outside of the suffocating house made Clary feel alive. More than anything, she wanted to run as fast as she could away from Jonathan. As a child, she’d wanted a brother, now that she had one she wished she’d never had such a desire. They were in a city, but everyone spoke another language. She looked around, trying to figure out where they were.

“Rome,” Jonathan said, filling her in. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“I always wanted to go to Rome,” she muttered, mostly to herself. Her fingers twitched at the thought of sketching the Colosseum, or St. Peter’s Basilica. The beauty distracted and disarmed her for a moment. She eyed her brother warily. “Why are we here?”

“To take in the sights,” Jonathan replied. “I overheard Jocelyn speaking with father. She’s telling him all about you, you know.” Clary felt the icy hand of dread creep over her spine. “She mentioned your desire to travel places such as this. Come on,” he crooked a finger. “This way.”

Clary didn’t really have an option in the matter. She could run, but he would catch her. All of the shops were closed, and the restaurants were slowing down. She didn’t speak Italian, and even if she did, what would she tell the Mundanes? _‘I was kidnapped by my psychotic father and brother. My mother, my friends, and a group of children are being held captive.’_ No, her best odds were to go along with Jonathan.

She followed him, her tennis shoes quiet on the cobblestone. “Why have you taken me to ‘see the sights?” His long stride had shortened for her when he noticed she struggled to keep up.

“That’s what brothers do, isn’t it?” Jonathan asked. “I’m supposed to care for you.”

The words left her chilled. “If you care for me, release me.”

“No,” he replied. “Soon, the world won’t be safe.”

“What do you mean?” Clary asked. “The world is already pretty unsafe.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jonathan said, turning the corner and grabbing her hand. “I won’t let anything hurt you.”

::

The sheer number of Shax demons in Gramercy Park disturbed Helen. She moved swiftly, annoyed by how armoured the creatures were. Blades gleamed with their soft glow, they lit an arc as she sliced low.

The creatures were greatly disturbing, parasitic creatures of her nightmares. She’d been seven when she found out they dragged their victims to seclusion and would lay eggs under the skin while they were still alive. This led to her trying to sneak into her parents’ bed in the middle of the night so she would know she was safe. Every morning she would wake in her own bed, and eventually, even when the nightmares persisted, she grabbed the dagger from her nightstand, but stayed in her own room.

She dodged the pincers and jammed one of her blades between the armoured plates. The demon let out a shriek as it seemed to burn from the inside out.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the demons knock Aline off balance. The woman fell on her back but managed to keep her blade up, blocking the pincers. With her Strength rune previously activated, Helen stomped over and kicked her motorcycle boot under the creature sending it flying a few feet. With the little time it bought, she yanked Aline’s slight figure back to her feet.

Aline didn’t say anything, but pushed Helen to the side as her blade swung down, killing the demon that had been coming up behind the blonde. Helen gave the smaller Shadowhunter a smile, and they both threw themselves back into the heat of battle.

It took them another twenty minutes in a hard fought battle as they cleared out the rest of the demons. Helen shoved the tips of her blades into the grass, thick ichor slowly slipping down the blade. “That was a lot of Shax Demons,” she said, adrenaline keeping her heart in overdrive. She kept her eyes moving, around their surroundings, just in case.

“More than I’ve ever seen in one space,” Lydia admitted, panting for breath.

“You guys don’t think,” Mark paused, glancing around. “They aren’t… breeding here, right?”

Helen felt like she’d been punched in the gut. _No, please no._ “They wouldn’t do it up here, there would need to be somewhere dark, and secluded.”

“So, like in water drain?” Aline pointed. Sure enough, the heavy metal grate that the rainwater would fall through was open.

The four of them walked over and looked down. The ladder led into the abyss. Lydia pulled out a Witchlight, they could barely make out the bottom of the ladder, a slightly raised platform, and water flowing to the side. “We have to be sure we’ve got the last of them,” Lydia said. “And there are mundanes missing.”

Mark’s elbow grazed her arm, gaining her attention. He raised a brow in silent question. He knew of her fear of Shax Demons. She dismissed him with the slightest shake of her head. She’d be fine. They’d all be fine.

“Who’s first?” Lydia asked.

“I’ll go,” Mark said. He managed to keep his sword in hand while descending. Jumping the last few rungs, he landed softly. A few seconds later, his pale features were staring up at them. “Looks clear, come down.”

Aline didn’t hesitate, neither did Lydia. Helen was grateful no one was around to notice her hand shaking before she balled it into a fist. Needing her hands, she flipped the short swords with ease and shoved them into the holsters on her back. With one last deep breath, she descended into the darkness.

::

Jonathan had taken her to see the Colosseum. They’d had gelato. He’d asked her about her life, appearing genuine in his interest. She’d also figured out a thing or two about him. He told her stories about growing up that reminded her of Jace and his falcon. She asked him for a good memory. Jonathan had remained silent for a long time, then suggested they get back to the house.

Her heart broke for Jonathan. He had lived his entire life under Valentine’s thumb, not to mention been subjected to their father’s twisted experiments. The second her heart started to feel sympathy for him, she remembered the raised scar in the shape of the Agony Rune on the back of Alec’s neck. Maybe her brother had a chance once, but at this point she saw him as irredeemable, but kept her mouth shut about it.

They returned through a tree, and that told her enough. They were in a pocket of the Faerie Realm. They stepped into the living room, Valentine sitting on the couch, looking over a map of Idris on the table. He quickly folded it. “You two are back. Have a good time bonding.”

“She went bowling,” Jonathan said, as if her memories of her fifth birthday party was important.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Valentine replied. “J, Fetch Jocelyn, and Jace.”

Jonathan tilted his head. “Did you take Jace bowling?”

“No, why would you ask that?”

“Jocelyn took Clary bowling.”

“Yes, Jocelyn did many things I wouldn’t approve of. Now, follow orders, Jonathan.”

Jonathan remained still longer than he usually would, but ultimately he left the room, leaving Clary with Valentine.

“Why did you have a map of Idris?” Clary asked.

Valentine sat on the couch, clearly unthreatened by his daughter, and not at all worried she could escape. “Because I need it.”

“For what?”

“I don’t expect you to understand, Clarissa, but the Clave is wrong. They’re weak.”

“They are,” Clary said, clearly shocking him. “They are wrong, they’re wrong about many things. They’re too weak to move forward.”

He shifted forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “And what are they wrong about in your eyes.”

“Downworlders,” Clary said. “They deserve to be treated as equals.”

Valentine scoffed. “They need to know their place.”

“That they do,” Jonathan said. In front of him, Jace and Jocelyn stood. Clary looked back at them, the two blond haired boys, and her mother with dark circles under her eyes.

Valentine sighed. “And here we have it, my family. Together again. You might not like it, but there is a war coming. I had hoped that you’d all see the light, but I see that you’re just as stubborn as ever, Jocelyn, and you’ve passed on your views to our daughter. And Jace…” Valentine shook his head. “I’m disappointed in you.”

Clary expected a sharp-witted retort, but Jace remained oddly quiet. She glanced over at him, half expecting something to be visibly wrong, but he managed to keep a blank face, refusing to give away his emotions.

“I wanted to be able to trust you, Son.”

“You’re not my father.”

“I’m the only father you’ve ever had,” Valentine argued. “And I know I trained you better than this.” His eyes turned to Jonathan. “Take him. Get it done. I expect success on this mission. Do you understand Jace?”

The muscle in Jace’s jaw jumped with how tightly his teeth pressed together. He nodded, glanced once at Clary, and walked away with Jonathan. Clary swallowed hard as her mother took a couple steps forward to stand beside her.

“Now, the women in my life, take a seat.”

Clary glanced over at her mother, who nudged her toward the chair, leaving herself with no option but to join Valentine on the couch.

::

Magnus remembered his boyfriend pacing after Jonathan had taken Jace, leaving the two of them alone in the room. It didn’t take long before the warlock came to take Magnus again. Alec had taken two long strides forward before magic knocked him back and kept him pinned against the wall. The thought made Magnus sick.

The click of the lock sounded so final. He dragged his feet every step as they walked down the hall. The stairs down made him freeze, until he was magically nudged forward. He wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. The collar kept him defenceless as he was pushed into the same dark room as before.

“Take a seat.”

When Magnus didn’t move toward the chair, he felt the other warlock step back. “If you don’t sit down, I’m sure I can find a way to charge the Orb with the Lightwood’s life force. I’m sure it’s an option.”

Magnus was quite sure it didn’t actually work that way. The only Seelie objects he’d ever seen ran off of magic- their own chaotic brand of it usually. Pretty sure, not exactly sure, and he wouldn’t risk Alec’s wellbeing. His Shadowhunter had already been through so much, and he knew he could bear his magic being syphoned again. Probably. Maybe.

The pull came. Gentle at first, almost blissful to feel his magic move. The pain struck him, and he couldn’t so much as breathe through it. His lungs felt like they were caving, internal organs felt like they were flipping inside out, his temples throbbed and the migraine became blinding.

He was dying.

Dying.

He’d welcome death at this point.

Run to death with open arms, anything to escape the excruciating pain.

The pull stopped, the pain did not.

He didn’t move, couldn’t. Breathing hurt. He kept his eyes closed, afraid of any light. He wasn’t sure if it was saliva or blood dripping from mouth down his chin. He felt empty, robbed, violated.

A scream escaped his sore throat when the Warlock’s fingers gripped his chin, forcing him to look up. “You’re still alive. Good. I’ll let you take a minute, then you can see your friends again. Tomorrow, we can do it all again.”

::

Time dragged, she answered Valentine’s questions about her youth. She didn’t want to give him her memories, but made sure to tell the most mundane of stories, to rub in his face that she’d lived away from the Shadow World. She’d lived with her mother. She’d been happy without him. And the cherry on top, she made sure Luke, who was ‘basically her real dad,’ was in every story.

The sound of a portal opening distracted her, and she turned. Jace stood there bloody, while Jonathan was simply covered in blood.

“What happened?” Valentine demanded.

“Your little Angel boy disobeyed,” Jonathan snarled. “Instead of killing the werewolves as ordered-“

“They’d done nothing wrong,” Jace snapped. “They were high ranking members of the Praetor Lupus! You can’t just go around killing people!”

“They aren’t people!” Jonathan snapped back. “And instead of having my back, like you should, you tried to save them.”

“Are they dead?” Valentine asked.

“Of course,” Jonathan said. “I handled it alone. I told you, I don’t need him.”

“Disappointing,” Valentine said, staring at Jace. “But not surprising. Take them to their room. Jocelyn, you’ll stay. We have much to discuss.”

“You’re not going to punish him?” Jonathan asked.

“Give him an Iratze, and retire for the evening.”

Jonathan looked ready to argue, but Valentine’s eyes narrowed. Jonathan shoved Jace toward the doorway roughly, apparently grabbing something already injured since Jace couldn’t quite bite off the groan that left his lips.

Clary saw movement in the hallway, as Jonathan turned the light on. The Warlock held Magnus up, but it was easy to see that Magnus wasn’t holding much of his own weight. She rushed forward. “Give him to me, let him go!” She tucked herself under Magnus’s arm, shocked by the blood smeared on his chin. “What did he do to you?”

“Please, Biscuit. Be quiet,” Magnus whispered.

Soon, Jace took up the space on Magnus’s other side, and they gently led him back to the room, Jonathan following behind.

Jonathan opened the door, and Clary spotted Alec. The devastation on his face is clear. The hiss leaving Jace caught Clary’s attention and she glanced over. Jonathan had rucked up Jace’s shirt and drawn an Iratze on his back. A second later, Jonathan was pressed up against he wall, and Jace practically dragged Magnus- and by extension Clary- over to the bed.

Everything happened so fast, Clary managed to get Magnus seated, and glanced over her shoulder. Jonathan and Alec were in a fight, Jonathan faster, but Alec had a longer reach, and his anger fueling him. The spear tackle clearly took Jonathan by surprise, and they ended up on the floor in a heap. Jonathan managed to get them reversed, and drew back, but Jace caught the arm.

Movements were so fast, Clary couldn’t keep up. She’d watched Jace and Alec spar on occasion, they both moved with a deadly grace. Both of them working together couldn’t even keep Jonathan down for long. Jonathan landed a vicious kick to Jace’s chest, knocking him to the ground. He spun with a roundhouse kick and it caught Alec under the jaw. Clary heard his teeth click together, he stayed upright for a second before collapsing into an unconscious heap.

“Alexander,” Magnus’s weak mutter was nearly lost in the sound of the continued fighting.

Jace rushed Jonathan, but Jonathan was calm, effective. He got a hold on Jace’s arm, and spun him, somehow getting him to his knees, twisting his arm painfully, and the shoulder looked ready to dislocate.

“Stop,” Clary begged, finally finding her voice. “Stop!”

Jonathan’s eyes slowly left the back of Jace’s head, to look at her.

“Please, please, leave them alone.” She feared letting go of Magnus. Even though he was sitting, much of his weight was leaning into her side. Still conscious though, she could feel the tension, he hand a hand clutched in the back of her shirt.

Jonathan released Jace. “Don’t do anything so stupid again, little brother.” With that, he left, looking rather pleased with himself.

Jace rotated his shoulder, before he dragged himself over to Alec’s body, laying awkwardly on the floor. “Damnit, Alec. I’m supposed to be the reckless one, not you.”

Magnus stood, wavering. Clary knew better than to try and keep him separated from Alec, so she let him use her for balance. The three of them knelt down, Jace arranging his parabatai’s limbs in a way that would be more comfortable.

“Why did you do that, dummy?” Jace muttered.

“Jonathan was marking you with a rune,” Magnus said. “After what happened to Alec…”

“No, I know… I know why he did it. He saw you, Magnus.” Jace glanced at the Warlock. “You look like you’re ready for your own funeral.”

“Thanks,” Magnus replied bitterly.

“Stating the obvious.”

Alec groaned, his eyes opening. The three of them let out a collective sigh.

“Are you okay?” Magnus asked softly.

Instead of answering, Alec grabbed Magnus’s hand and put it over his groin area.

“Woah!" Jace exclaimed. "Okay, this is not the time!”

Magnus’s eyes widened as Alec smiled a little manically. Magnus let out a little laugh, brushing his thumb over the material. “Is that a Stele in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?”

Alec licked his scarred lips. “I’m happy to see you, but it’s a Stele in my pants.”

Sure enough, Magnus pulled his pants down just a little and between his boxers and trackpants- Clary spotted the familiar silver, runed object. “How?” she asked breathlessly.

“I saw him tuck it in his pants after he gave Jace that rune.” His blue eyes cut to Jace. “That better have been an Iratze, did he-“

“I’m fine, Alec,” Jace promised. “The Iratze is healing things up.”

Alec shifted pulling the Stele from his pants and held it in his trembling fingers. “Grabbed it when I tackled him.” His eyes cut to Magnus, then to Clary. “We have to leave.” He grabbed Clary’s hand and shoved the Stele in her hand. “He’s going to figure out that he’s lost that, and he’s not going to be happy.” The panicked pitch where Alec was always so monotonous put Clary on edge. “We need to go,” Alec insisted. “Now.”

She looked to the door. “I can’t leave without my Mom, or those kids.”

Alec sat up all the way, and shook his head. “There is no guarantee we can get to the other side of this place without being caught. And who knows how long before Valentine’s son realizes that I stole his Stele.”

“Help Magnus up,” Clary said, standing quickly. “Jace, come here.” When they were on the other side of the room she stood the bare wall. “Magnus can’t go through that again.”

“Agreed.”

“I can’t leave my Mom,” she whispered. She glanced over her shoulder to see Alec crouching, pulling Magnus’s arm over his shoulder.

“I know,” Jace whispered back. “But they have to go. Valentine still sees me as his son. You’re his daughter. Jocelyn his wife. As twisted as it is… we’re mostly safe.” He nodded his head in the direction of Alec and Magnus. “They’re not.”

She stared up at him, hoping they’d come to an agreement since Alec had apparently decided Magnus was too slow at walking, and simply scooped him up.

“Why are you so…” Alec stared at his parabatai confused. “Nervous?”

“Clary is going to draw a Rune for a portal that shouldn’t exist,” Jace said. “Isn’t that reason enough.”

“We are putting a lot of stock into this,” Alec admitted, he looked down at Magnus who looked about ready to fall asleep. “Come on, Fray. Time to put your money where your mouth is.”

Clary took a deep breath, and shut her eyes. The vision came to her clearly. She poured her heart into the rune. The rune on the wall looked as black as the runes on their skin, but then it turned a soft purple, and expanded into a wide circle.

“Holy shit,” Jace whispered.

Clary smiled. “You all didn’t believe me.”

“Remind me not to bet against you again,” Alec muttered, staring in wonder. “Jace…” Alec’s face turned from wonderment to fleeting panic.  

“Alec, think of home,” Jace said from behind his parabatai, before he gave the man a hard shove, pushing him and Magnus through the portal. “Close it,” Jace said, and Clary stared for a minute, before waving the stele where she’d drawn the rune, it shrunk, and disappeared. They stared where the portal had been. “Okay, let’s try and get to Jocel-“

The door slammed open, Jonathan and Valentine stepped in.

“Shit,” Jace whispered.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for taking FOREVER to get this chapter out. Forget writers block, I had a whole damn wall.   
> I was so excited to write this chapter in the planning stages, but not a single character would comply.   
> Hopefully this doesn't totally suck :P

Alec struggled to maintain his balance with Magnus in his arms. Since getting together with Magnus, he’d become more accustom to portal travel, however he still had a headache from the roundhouse kick Valentine’s demon-blooded monster got in on him. The loft looked as it did the last time he’d been there, and he tightened his grip on Magnus, walking away from the portal to gently lay Magnus down on the couch.

He heard the ‘schick’ sound of the portal collapsing in on itself, and he didn’t have to turn around to know that neither Jace, nor Clary had followed them through. He closed his eyes tightly, that was why Jace had given him a push, because Jace had known he could not follow. Understanding the reasons why the two had stayed, and why they’d forced Alec and Magnus to go didn’t make the reality of the situation any better.

“I-I didn’t think I’d have the strength to influence the portal,” Magnus muttered, looking around his home.

“I doubt you did,” Alec said offhandedly as he sunk to his knees beside the couch, reaching under till his hand gripped the case and he pulled it out.

“But-“ Magnus’s voice trailed, and Alec glanced over to see a dopey smile on the warlock’s face. “You think of here as home.”

Alec couldn’t answer. He flipped the tabs on the case and opened it. The Seraph blade gleamed, and he pulled it from the case. He wanted his bow and arrows, but they were still at the Institute. “We can’t stay here,” Alec said. He pulled the straps of the sheath over his chest, so it pressed diagonally across his back. “The Clave might have people watching the loft.”

“I know where we can go,” Magnus said, clearly struggling to sit up. “But I’m not going anywhere dressed like this.”

“Magnus-“

“Five minutes, Alec.”

Not willing to waste time arguing, Alec pulled Magnus up and practically dragged him to the bedroom. “Four minutes and thirty two seconds,” Alec said the moment they crossed the threshold.

“Alright, Alright.”

They used the time to dress a little more like themselves, and Alec admittedly felt a bit better for it. His worn jeans hung a little loosely on his hips, the combat boots were worn and comfortable, he left the t-shirt on, but pulled a black sweater over it. He glanced over at Magnus who emerged from his walk-in closet wearing a pair of black trousers, a black long-sleeves shirt that appeared to have silver threads woven through it and reached mid palm, he tugged a little on the ends and frowned when he saw Alec. “Do you really think the Clave is watching?”

“We can’t take any risks. We need to get moving.”

Magnus nodded.

“So where are we going?” Alec asked. He figured his family was still under lock down, and outside of the Clave he didn’t have any close ties.

Magnus walked a little shakily, but he kept his head held high. “I know where we’ll be safe, and where the Clave won’t dare come knocking.” Alec raised a brow. “The Hotel Dumort.”

::

Helen Blackthorn really wished she’d gotten to stay in Los Angeles. Sure, she might have to spend most of the time wrangling her younger siblings, but it sure beat being in a dark, water drain that smelled of mold and decomposing bodies. Of course, the ominous sound of scuttling made everything worse, and thanks to the layout of the space, it echoed and they couldn’t actually tell which way the sound was coming from.

They came to a split in the tunnels, and Helen knew what Lydia was going to say. “We should split up,” Lydia’s witchlight cast a glow down one tunnel, then the next.

“I disagree,” Aline said. “If this is where they’re breeding, the Shax demons will be territorial,  not only that, but who knows how many of them there will be.”

“I’m with Aline,” Helen said, quick to jump on the stay-together-train.

“We might be at this all night then,” Lydia said, sounding exhausted. “Alright.” She forged forward, and the rest of them followed with their weapons in hand. The scuttling sounded louder. “Too much noise for rats, I think.”

“Demons or rats, lovely. I’m loving this city so far,” Mark replied with heavy sarcasm.

Lydia paused, and the rest of them raised their blades, Lydia and Aline both raising witchlights. “Is that a body?” Aline asked.

“Might be one of the missing mundanes,” Lydia replied.

“Go,” Mark said. “Helen and I will watch your backs.” And the four of them moved as though they’d been working together for years. When Lydia crouched by the body, Aline kept watching forward while Mark and Helen watched where they’d come from.

“Looks to be one of the missing mundanes from a few days ago,” Lydia said.

Helen made the mistake of looking over her shoulder, the mundane’s stomach appeared to have exploded from the inside, the blood already dark from oxidization, horror etched into the woman’s face. The Shax eggs that had been laid inside of her had hatched. Helen tried to slow her breathing, the scent of the rotting body making her feel ill. “There are baby Shax demons down here.”

“Shit,” Mark said. They heard a low moan echo through the tunnels. “That’s human.”

“Someone is still alive!” Aline said, raising her witchlight above her head, trying to see further down the tunnel.

“We have to find them before the eggs hatch,” Lydia said and they moved forward.

Helen looked back at the deceased woman, a chill settling in her bones before she pressed forward.

::

Magnus kept five steps in front of Alec. In the event that Valentine had sent men looking for them, they’d be looking for a duo, not two individuals, and if Alec were to have to fight, he’d need the space to swing that deadly blade that Magnus wanted no part of. He stopped at the lights, and waited for the traffic signal to change. Risking a glance at Alec, he found the man standing in the shadows by a shop. Their eyes met before Alec’s eyes shifted to the light and he motioned with his head.

Magnus took one last look at the stopped cars before walking across the street. The danger made him feel panicked. His magic had never been so out of reach. Exhaustion made things worse. If Valentine’s men were to get the drop on them, he’d be nearly useless.

And he already had a hard enough time with everything that had happened to Alec, to think he could be attacked and Magnus wouldn’t have the power to fight, that Alec could be killed.

His stomach lurched.

Another two blocks and they would be at the Hotel Dumort. They would be safe. … Safer.

He walked faster, desperate to get to their destination before they could be spotted. He almost cheered when they got to the door, it wasn’t locked, and he let themselves in. With the door shut behind him he leaned back against it, his knees shaking. Seeming to sense it, Alec pulled his arm over his shoulder, baring the majority of his weight.

“Raphael!” Magnus shouted, surely getting the attention of all the vampires in the hotel.

A brief moment, in which he registered a flash of movement, Raphael stood in front of them. “Magnus,” his name little more than a breath of relief. Then his eyes roamed over Magnus. “You escaped.”

“We did. The others didn’t,” Magnus said taking a deep breath, trying to find his own feet before the other vampires could see him like this.

“Is that collar what I think it is?” Raphael asked softly.

Magnus felt the tears well in his eyes. The painful reminder of the magic that had been stolen so painfully, the powerlessness that came with having his magic so out of reach. “Yes.”

For the first time, Raphael really looked over at Alec, and Magnus’s heart clenched when the vampire’s eyes widened, and jaw went slack. He recovered quickly, but he could feel the way Alec had tensed. “Your sister is here.”

“Izzy?” Alec hadn’t sounded so hopeful since before Bone City. “Izzy is here?”

“Yes.” Raphael looked them both over once more. “Come with me. We have much to discuss.”

They didn’t have time to leave the entrance way before Isabelle came barreling down the stairs, jumping off, skipping the last five, and landing gracefully. “I knew it was your voice, Magnus!” she said excitedly rushing across the large foyer only to come to a halt, her hand flying to the mouth did nothing to silence the gasp. “Alec,” her big brown eyes welled with tears. “Oh Alec, what did they do to you?”

Magnus noticed more people coming down the stairs; Simon, Luke, Áine.

Isabelle pulled her Stele out, and Magnus felt Alec’s muscles tense. “Here, let me-“ with her step forward, Alec took one back, and Magnus with his arm still around Alec’s back, had to step back with him. Isabelle looked at her brother with concern and despair. “Alec?”

“I… I can’t- just don’t.”

“Looks like we all have some catching up to do,” Luke said studying the group. “But first, some sleep looks like it’s in order.”

“No,” Magnus said weakly. “Áine, this thing,” he grabbed the collar at his neck. “Can you take it off?”

Áine was quiet for a minute before she moved closer. She grabbed Magnus by the arm, and dragged him over to one of the stylish, leather chairs. “Sit, let me get a good look.”

He followed her order, and felt Alec step in close. Áine’s lilac scent was oddly calming, she moved slow, as if she was trying not to spook him, although Magnus realized she was likely trying not to spook Alec. Her hand raised slowly, her fingers touching the collar. “Well?” Magnus asked, at the end of his patience.

“Isn’t that like the one in the memory crystal?” Isabelle asked.

Áine turned to glare.

“What memory crystal?” Magnus asked. “Can you get it off?”

“No,” Áine replied. “Niamh could have-“

“I thought these were supposed to be destroyed.”

“They were,” Áine stood back up to her full height. “Niamh made this one afterwards, and for a different purpose. Loopholes.”

“Niamh is dead,” Luke said.

“Yes. But there is one more person who can get it off. The Warlock she made it for.”

“The man in the memory,” Isabelle questioned.

“Yes.”

“What kind of Warlock would want something like this,” Magnus tugged it frustrated; only to have Áine’s soft hands on top of his, gently pulling them away.

“Stop that, you’ll only hurt yourself. I’ll write Wilhiem.”

“You still didn’t answer me,” Magnus said.

“No. I didn’t,” with that, Áine turned, and headed to the stairs.

::

Alec supported Magnus as they walked up the stairs. Isabelle filled them in as they walked up the stairs; from the lockdown, to her escape.  Raphael led them to a more private room. Alec remembered it from when they were rescuing Simon from Camille. The gold couches were still there, and as tacky as ever, however, he saw the upside when he and Magnus sat next to each other.

“I’m never moving again,” Magnus whispered, his head coming to rest on Alec’s shoulder.

The softness nearly lulled him to sleep, but Isabelle’s voice brought him back to wakefulness. “Jace? Clary? Jocelyn? You two need to fill in some blanks.”

“They’re exhausted,” Luke said. “Let them rest, we can grill them in the morning.”

“They were okay when we escaped-“

“And how did you do that?” Raphael asked, sitting on one of the chairs with a fresh glass of blood in hand.

While he trusted Magnus absolutely, his trust in his boyfriend didn’t extend to the rest of the downworld. Magnus must have sensed the reason behind his silence, turning to nuzzle against his neck. “I trust him with my life, and more than that, I would trust him with yours.”

It spoke volumes, Alec knew. “We managed to get a Stele…” he glanced at Luke. “And Clary created a new rune. A portal rune.”

“That’s… that’s impossible,” Luke said.

“If I hadn’t been there, if I hadn’t fallen through it and ended up in Magnus’s loft, I wouldn’t have believed it either.” Alec sighed. “We got it off Jonathan.”

“Jace?” Isabelle asked, confused.

“No, no, Jonathan Morgenstern. Valentine’s son.”

Isabelle ran her hand through her hair, tousling the dark waves. “Wait.” She stood. “What did he look like?”

Áine returned to the room in that moment. “Wilhiem has agreed to meet.” She looked at Alec, and moved too fast, his body still in fight mode stood, his sword drawn in a swift, graceful movement despite the exhaustion. “Woah,” She stumbled back a step and had her hands up. “Okay, okay, relax. No sudden moves, got it. I’m going to get something out of my pocket.” She pulled out what looked to be a pocket watch. “Jace is your Parabatai, right?”

“Yes,” he replied slowly.

“Take this in your hand.”

Alec took a deep breath, and put his hand out, palm up. It was more of a compass than a watch, although it didn’t look like any compass he’d ever seen. The ornate pin whipped around before coming to a near stop, vibrating violently under the glass dome.

“Perfect.” She pulled a piece of thick, folded, parchment paper from her back pocket and laid it out. A strange map that kept shifting. “Touch it.”

He glanced at Isabelle who nodded. Too exhausted to argue, or question too much, he reached out and touched his fingertips to the paper, the strange compass in his other hand. The lines slithered into new positions, shifting, changing, until an entirely new map was left in it’s wake.

“That explains why we haven’t been able to track you all down. It’s in the Faerie realm. There is no good translation for the name of it, but we really need to know is that it is everywhere and nowhere.”

“If it’s a part of the Faerie realm, how did Valentine get it?”

“Jonathan,” Luke said. “That must be the Shadowhunter that Niv saw with the Queen.” He glanced at Alec and Magnus.

“Blonde, little taller than Jace, shorter than me, dark eyes,” Alec said.

“Sounds about right,” Áine said. “So we know now. The Queen is in league with Valentine.” She took a deep breath. “Get some rest. We travel to see Wilhiem tomorrow. After that, I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you much. Not immediately anyway.”

“You’re just going to abandon us?” Isabelle asked.

“Hardly,” Áine said, sounding a touch insulted. “However, I have a war to start, and a Queen to dethrone, and those might be the things to help you the most.”

::

Incapable of seeing her brother, and Magnus so exhausted, she called it a night, forcing their little meeting to an end. Raphael led the way down the hall. “Any of the rooms in this wing are free.”

“Thank you,” Magnus said, exhausted, but heartfelt.

“Get some rest. We’ll speak tomorrow evening.” He turned but paused. “Be careful on your trip with Áine.”

“I’m sure I’m in good hands,” Magnus said. “And I’ll be more than grateful to get this fucking thing off.”

Raphael didn’t respond, but continued down the hall, stopping to answer his ringing phone.

“There is still something we haven’t spoken about,” Isabelle said, quiet, and oddly subdued as she followed them into the room. Alec gently sitting Magnus down on the bed.

“It can wait till morning,” Alec said, his lips cracked and dry, but that was hardly the worst of it.

Her eyes welled up. “No. No it can’t.”

Panic, barely leashed, clawed at him. “Is… is it Mom?”

“No, last time I heard, there was no condition change. This is about you. By the Angel, Alec.” Her face scrunched with utter anguish. “Why won’t you let me help you? What did they do to you?”

Alec looked away, but she made eye contact with Magnus who looked pained, and torn. Still, very purposely, Magnus raised his hand, a single finger tapping on the back of his own neck. She had to maneuver, move faster than Alec could compensate, but she saw it. Not enough of it, before he turned to give her a questioning look.

“What rune is on the back of your neck?” she asked, never one to beat around the bushes.

“Iz-“

“What rune is it, Alec?”

Instead of answering, he sat down on the bed, and she walked over, and climbed up behind him. The scar, raised from overuse, and lighter than the rest of his already pale skin stood out like a neon sign. _Agony._ “No,” she whispered in horror. “No.” Her arms wrapped around him, and she pulled him closer, tears streaming down her face. “Was this Valentine?”

“No, his kid.”

“And… and your lips?”

“Aldertree.”

She’d already considered Aldertree a monster, but this… this… her mind clouded with a rage she trembled with.

“How were Jace and Clary when you left?”

“They were mostly okay. They’re still okay, I feel Jace, he’s… smug, I think.”

Isabelle’s brows furrowed. “How can you tell that much through the bond, I thought-“

“We shouldn’t be able to. I’m not sure why we can. Iz, please, give me five hours of sleep and I’ll answer your questions.”

“If I give you the Stele, can you do it?” she asked, resting her chin on his shoulder.

She felt more than heard his shaky exhale. “No. I just… I can’t.”

“You’re a Shadowhunter-“

“Leave him be,” Magnus said firmly. “Let him rest.”

Isabelle held his gaze for a moment before nodding. “Okay. I’ll be in the room across the hall if either of you need anything.” Her feet hit the floor and she turned, pressing a kiss to the mess of her brother’s hair. “I love you, Alec.” Her breath shook. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“Love you too, Iz.”

She turned and kissed Magnus’s temple too. “Same goes for you.” Magnus offered her a small smile, but it warmed her heart. “Sleep. We’ll get you out of that thing tomorrow.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been a total slowpoke with updates, I'm so sorry.

In a private room in the Hotel Dumort, Áine returned to her lovers. Cara laid sprawled out on the bed, for such a petite woman, she always took up the most room. By the open window, Niv sat, keeping eyes on the outside world, the door, and their Cara.

“Did she take the waters of Lake Lyn?” Áine asked.

“Yes.”

Áine frowned at the shortness of the answer. “And?”

The woman in questioned stirred, her eyes opening, a little smile tugged on her lips when her eyes came to stop on Áine. “You’re back.”

Áine leaned against the doorframe.  “What did you see?”

“You, in battle,” Cara said, a little dazed. “And again as Queen.”

Suspicious of how vaguely her lover spoke, she turned to Niv, then back to Cara. “What else?”

“Variables,” she said with a dismissive hand. “Now, come to bed, My Heart. I wish to feel you.”

Niv stood, closed the space between them, and leaned down to kiss Áine briefly. “I’ll be in the room across the hall.”

“You could join us,” Áine offered, her eyes still on Cara.

“Tonight, I am not what either of you need,” he whispered softly, but not unkindly or angry.

Áine glanced up at him. “I feel like I am missing something.”

He kissed her temple. “I will be in the room across the hall.” 

“Don’t get yourself into trouble,” Áine requested.

He bowed his head with a hint of a smirk. “As you desire, my Queen.”

When the door shut behind Niv, Áine stripped off her shirt, and let it drop to the floor as she sauntered to the foot of the bed. Cara crawled forward till she could kiss Áine, just above her navel, then higher, higher, until their lips finally met. “Let me please you, My Heart.”

Áine smirked, her fingers threading through Cara’s blonde ringlets. “You always do.”

::

The screaming in the tunnels echoed, and Helen glanced over at her brother. Mark, bless him, looked angry, not at all afraid as she felt. She looked around, the storm drain illuminated only by their individual witchlights. The junction split the tunnel into three.

Aline pulled her stele out and drew the Awareness rune on her wrist. The rest of the group didn’t so much as breathe. The woman stood still, listening, grimacing a little. After a few seconds, Aline pointed to the right. “That way,” she said as she deactivated the rune.

“Let’s move,” Lydia said, and they all drew weapons.

“Stop,” Mark said, his voice low.

They all turned to him, and it took only half-second more for Helen to understand why. The screaming had stopped.

Aline took a step back. “We’re too late.”

The scuttling sound from before broke out.

“Shit,” Helen whispered.

::

Jace sat in the room alone. Valentine had been furious when he saw that Clary had created a portal, and that Magnus and Alec had escaped. After that, he confiscated the stele, and put them into separate rooms. He fought the wave of panic that came with Clary being away from him, especially since he was sure Valentine had questions.

Alec’s side of the bond had been tense for a long while, then calmed, and it soothed Jace. After a while, he felt the bond grow fuzzy and warm in a way that indicated sleep. That more than anything brought Jace a sense of peace. If Alec felt safe enough to sleep this deeply, he’d gotten somewhere safe, and Magnus was surely okay too.

The door opened, and Valentine stood ominously in the doorway. There was a time when he would have been afraid of his father’s stature, intimidated by the expression on his face. That time had long past.  “Jace.”

“Valentine.”

“How did your parabatai, and his warlock escape?”

“They clicked their heels three times and thought of home,” Jace said, the reference once made by Simon. While Jace had rolled his eyes at the concept of the movie described, he found great joy in taunting Valentine with something so mundane.

His face went red with anger. “I am your father, and you will not disrespect me, Jonathan!”

“Jace,” he snapped, standing to his full height. “I’m Jace _Lightwood._ Maryse and Robert are my parents, not you; Alec and Max are my brothers, Isabelle is my sister, and you can go to Hell.”

Valentine frowned. “Apparently none of my lessons stuck with you. The Lightwoods made you weak. A pity.”

“The Lightwoods made me strong,” Jace said his lip curling in anger. He thought of Maryse’s warm hugs, Robert’s proud hand on his shoulder, the love he felt from Alec, the comradery of Isabelle, and of being idolized by Max. He thought of Clary, and the way she embodied gaining strength through love, everything she did, she did with her entire heart. “You’re the one who broke my falcon’s neck, you’re the one who only understands obedience. The Lightwoods understand love, and loyalty and it _doesn’t_ make you weak.”

Valentine stared at him a moment, before he shook his head. “One day, one day soon, Jace, I will reteach you the lesson that to love is to destroy.” He turned on his heel and left.

Jace thought of every person he loved, the list had grown longer in the past year, and he felt sick. His love for his friends and family would make them a target. He collapsed back down on the floor and put his head in his hands.

::

A knock at the door dragged Áine from bed. She yawned as she sauntered barefoot along the wood floors, and opened the door to Raphael in a full suit, multiple bags in hand. His eyes ran down her with a clinical kind of detachment before his eyes returned to her face.

“You’re naked,” he said with a flat voice.

She glanced down, then back to Raphael. “Yes.”

“Here,” he thrust the bags at her, partially covering her body. “I had Lily pick them up. Hopefully they will suit you more than what you’ve been borrowing from Simon.”

“Thank you!” She took the bags, and set them inside on the floor. “Would you care to come in? Cara figured out the coffee maker last night.”

“You’re naked,” he said once again.

“Yes.” She cocked her head to the side. “We’ve established that.”

“Mundies are weird about nudity, remember,” Cara called from the bedroom.

“Oh. Oh yeah,” Áine said looking abashed. “And you’re a former mundane. My apologies. I didn’t intend on making you uncomfortable.”

He waved her off, turning on his heel. “Just… get dressed.”

“Yes,” she said, following a little. “Thank you again.” She leaned out to watch him walk down the hall. She smirked a little, admiring the way he filled out a suit.

“Stop staring at Raphael’s ass,” Cara shouted.

Áine quickly tucked back into the room and shut the door. “Cara!”

“Well, you were, and you shouldn’t.” She stood in the kitchenette in all of her naked glory, her blonde curls covering her breasts. “He doesn’t seem particularly open to your flirting- and you have more important things to worry about.”

“He hasn’t outright turned me down either,” Áine argued. “And I like him. He’s prickly.”

Cara sighed. “And why do you like that?”

Áine shrugged, and started to sort through the bag of clothes. “Remind me to compliment Lily on her taste.” She held one of the shirts to her body. “And her ability to know my size without asking.”

“Think we have time to share a shower before you go?” Cara asked with a little pout.

Áine raised a brow. “You’re quite insatiable. Are you sure there isn’t something you’d like to tell me?”

Cara pressed her body against Áine’s, her fingers light as they trailed up the bumps of the redhead’s spine. “I love you with all that I am.”

Áine melted into the touch of her lover, and brushed her nose against Cara’s. “And I love you.” She claimed the woman’s lips, and backed her toward the bathroom.

::

Alec sat on gold couch, his body feeling a little better after a full night of sleep, not to mention the bacon and egg bagel sandwich that he was finishing off. Magnus also looked better, and claimed to be feeling better, but still frustrated with his magic so out of reach. They were both quiet as they finished off the last bites of the breakfast Isabelle had procured for them.

“I wish we knew something about this Wilhiem guy,” Isabelle said. “I feel like we’re flying blind. I trust Áine but everything is so messed up.”

Alec licked the last crumb from his thumb. He’d had a hard time eating with Valentine sitting at the table, and mostly pushed his food around, so it felt good to finally have a full meal in his stomach. “Look, if he’s the only guy who can get this collar of Magnus, we’re going.”

“I’m not arguing that, I’m just… worried.” Isabelle glanced at Alec. “Jace is still okay?”

Alec stared blankly for a few seconds. “He’s… irritated I think.”

“Since when can you tell something like that so specifically?” Isabelle asked.

“I’m not sure,” Alec replied. “It was gradual, and it’s kind of instinctive. We’re not sure why it started happening, only that it has the downside of being distracting. Sometimes, it’s… I don’t know… ‘louder’ for lack of a better term, harder to ignore.”

“Not good for battle,” Isabelle commented.

“Yeah, I know.” Alec brushed some crumbs from his jeans. “I’d see if I could block it, but for obvious reasons, I really don’t want to.”

“If he’s only irritated, he’s alright,” Magnus said softly, his hand grabbing Alec’s with a comforting squeeze. “And Clary and Jocelyn must also be okay.”

“We need to get them out of there,” Alec said.

“One step at a time.” Áine walked into the room looking like her old self, the confident commander. The dark green v-neck clung to her figure, partially covered by the brown leather jacket, dark skinny jeans disappeared into knee high brown leather boots. Her hair, while still a little wet, was in a complex style of braids, partially up, while more strands ran down her back. “First, we get the collar off. Come on, we have a bus to catch.”

“A bus?” Alec said.

“Well, he can’t portal, and given the current political climate in the realm, I can’t safely take you through rings, or doorways.” Áine checked the rose gold watch on her wrist. “Now, come on, don’t want to be late!”

::

With Aldertree out of the way- mostly, he brooded around the Institute like a dejected puppy, Maryse sat in her bedroom trying to figure out where Isabelle could have gone. Max insisted he knew nothing, but she doubted it. He sat reading, while she watched him. The door opened and she jolted to her feet, hand on the hilt of her blade, but her husband stood inside the doorway.

“Anything?”

“No,” he replied. “She couldn’t very well find them on her own.”

“Magnus is the only warlock she would trust with this, and he’s missing too,” she said, pacing. Her body still felt weak, and sluggish. “It leaves limited options.”

“The Seelie Meliorn?” Robert suggested.

Maryse nodded, she’d considered that possibility too. “Or her vampire friend, Simon.”

“We can’t split up. Not now,” he said, a casual glance at Max. “And we can’t trust anyone with this. Trusting in the Clave is what got Alec into this mess.”

“Be careful what you say,” she whispered softly. Speaking ill of the Clave was a slippery slope, one they’d gone down before, and ended up exiled for it.

“The Silent Brother’s in the vicinity are all dead,” Robert’s booming voice was all too loud after just waking as she had. “Our sons are missing!”

“The fault rests with Valentine,” she reminded him, her eyes narrowed. “Now, let’s find them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: GETTING MAGNUS OUT OF THAT DAMN COLLAR. FINALLY.   
> Hopefully up this weekend- I'm going to make an active attempt to get updates out more frequently. Feel free to send angry messages, this pace is ridiculous, and I'm so sorry.


	22. Chapter 22

Lydia sat in the tunnel, her back against the wall. “I never want to go into a storm drain again.”

“Agreed,” Aline replied, her left hand planted on her knee, right hand still on a blade soaked in ichor. “That was incredibly unpleasant, and I don’t wish to repeat it any time soon.”

“We should earn vacation for this,” Mark said, leaning back against the tunnel, his broadsword dangling loosely from one hand. “Who’s up for Miami?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Helen replied, giving her brother a playful push. She shifted the straps that crossed her chest, her blades which she’d dunked into the storm water to clean the best she could, were already tucked into the sheaths on her back. “Anyone injured?”

“A little scratched up from when I fell,” Aline admitted. “But they aren’t demon scratches, I’m fine.”

Helen jumped gracefully over the water, avoiding getting any more into her boots, still her socks, and part of her jeans were soaked, and every stepped she made sloshing sounds. “Here,” she pulled her Stele out, and waited.

Aline raised her hand, the cuts were small, shallow, but were bleeding. If they needed to fight, they would mess up her grip. With careful, steady hands, Helen drew the Iratze.

The rune held, and the wounds started to heal before their eyes. “You’re really good at that rune,” Aline commented, looking down at the smallest rune she’d ever seen drawn.

“Six younger siblings.” Helen shrugged with a little smirk. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

Lydia pushed herself back to standing, and looked down the tunnel. The scuttling sound had stopped, and they were relatively sure they’d cleared out the nest. “We need to check the body. Just in case.”

“Be my guest,” Aline muttered under her breath, her nose wrinkling a little.

Despite Aline’s revulsion with the task, the four of them stuck together. While they’d killed the small, infantile demon swarm, the demon that had laid the eggs was nowhere in sight. Mark had earlier hypothesized that they had killed it up in the park, which was possible, but no one wanted to take any chances.

When they came across the body, the feet were dangling over the raised platform, and in the water. The chest cavity of the male was empty, blood everywhere, along with what looked to be bits of internal organs.

Aline made a gagging sound, and turned quickly. “That is disgusting!”

“Well… he’s dead,” Mark said with a great deal of certainty.

“What is it?” Helen asked when she caught Lydia staring hard.

Lydia cursed under her breath. “His teeth.” At that, they all started to pay more attention to the man’s face. In particular the enlarged incisors. “He’s a vampire.”

“Why isn’t he ashes then?” Mark asked.

“He’s still alive,” Helen whispered in horror.

“Not possible!” Aline said, glaring at the wall. “His insides might as well have been put through a blender.”

Helen stared in horror as lines crossed the body, looking like embers of a fire started internally and then ignited swiftly leaving nothing but ashes in its wake.

“ _Now_ he’s dead,” Mark said. “Can we go now?”

“Yes,” Lydia said with a frown. “But we’re going to have to go to the Hotel Dumort, someone has to report this to Raphael.”

::

With fresh runes, and a full breakfast, Maryse felt a bit better. Robert had spent the last dregs of the night working, trying to find where Isabelle would have gone. They didn’t want to risk an incident, but the only places she could have realistically gone to was either Bone City- in search of clues to lead the way to her brothers and friend, The Hotel Dumort- to her friend, Simon, or to the Seelie Glades- to her… something, Meliorn.

She glanced over to see Max sleeping on the couch, his book clutched to his chest. Three of their children were in the wind. She felt a little sick at the thought, and pushed away the remaining toast in favour of more tea.

Robert came in, shutting the door behind himself with a quiet click. “She’s not in the Bone City. Silent Brothers from other districts are coming in. They would know if she was around.”

“So that leaves the Dumort, and the Glades.”

“Neither will be pleased with us asking questions,” Robert said, his hands resting on the table, his body curved enough to put them at eye level with the table between them.

“We have to risk it. Valentine has our sons,” she hissed. “We must find our daughter.” She looked around the room. “Where is my phone?”

Robert pushed away from the table, pulled the device from a shelf, and removed the charger. “Here,” he passed it over to her. He watched as she turned the device on. “What are you going to do?”

“I have her vampire friend’s number. Not to mention Raphael’s. It would be foolish for them to start an incident with the Institute over harboring Isabelle. They will tell us one way or another,” she said, sounding more confident than she felt. “If she’s not there, we will have to try and meet with Meliorn, which won’t go well, I’m sure.”

::

The bus took them to the edge of the city, from there, they had to walk. Alec, and Magnus followed Áine down the sidewalk. While Isabelle had wanted to go, Áine had told them she’d had a hard enough time insisting that Alec join them. Ultimately, they needed Wilhiem’s assistance, and that meant playing by his rules.

“What can you tell us about this guy?” Alec asked, feeling all too exposed without his parabatai at his side. He adjusted the bow over his shoulder, just to assure himself it was there. Isabelle had glamoured his bow and quiver before leaving, he’d tried, but the Stele in his hand had shaken so violently he would have never gotten the lines right.

“I don’t know too much,” Áine said. “He was Niamh’s lover, not mine. I met him a few times. He makes a fantastic cup of tea.” She stopped outside of a brownstone, and reached out, her hand glowing gold, her magic snapping off like lightning, and flickering like little fireworks as it sliced along the orange barrier. Slowly, the barrier faded to nothing. “Come on.”

Alec glanced over at Magnus, and found him frozen, his eyes wide. Scarred archers fingers threaded with the well-manicured hands. “Are you okay?”

“I felt that barrier come down. I… I can feel my magic inside of me, and… I want it back,” Magnus replied, glancing up at his boyfriend, his fingers tightening. “I’m getting it back.”

“Yes, you are,” Alec promised, kissing Magnus quickly before Áine whistled a quick note to bring their attention back to her.

“Come on,” she repeated, turning on a heel, and jogging up the steps. She banged on the door, as if her little fire show on the barriers hadn’t been an announcement enough. “Wil, it’s Áine, I’m here with Alec an-“ the door flew open too fast, and slammed against the wall. “Alriiight then,” she muttered before quickly dropping to a crouch as a plate flew over her head, and shattered on the sidewalk behind them.

A few stairs down, Alec crowded Magnus into the banister, keeping him away from the flying objects that continued to come out the door. A tea cup, a roll of paper towel, an ancient painting, all of which Áine dodged. “Wilhiem!” she shouted. “Knock it off.” 

A silver object flew, and Áine’s quick reflexes caught the hilt of a knife before it hit her face. “WILHIEM!”

“Sorry, sorry.” The man appeared in the doorway, and Alec instantly pitied him. He bore the face of grief. The warlock hadn’t bothered with a glamour. His slightly grey-ish skin had dark purpling under the eyes indicating a lack of sleep. The eyes were odd, unnatural outside of warlock marks, his iris had no bounds, a navy blue swept out from the pupil to his eyelids.  Bright red hair was unkempt, strands sticking up at angles, and patted down in strange places. “Since Niamh… since she… my magic has been temperamental.” They heard what sounded like a crackle of thunder, and the man sighed. “I think I just flooded my basement again.” He turned and motioned for them to follow. “I’d make tea, but I blew up my last two tea pots.”

They followed him through the entranceway, down the narrow hallway. The kitchen/dining room area was a small-scale disaster. The entire dining room had splinters, a few chair legs actually imbedded in the wall. The kitchen was all broken glass, the only structure of the cabinets had survived along with the liquor bottles.

Wilhiem poured a healthy dose of expensive bourbon into a blue floral tea cup. “So,” he gestured toward Magnus with the cup, “you must be Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn.”

“I am,” Magnus replied.

Just Wilhiem’s pupils moved in his eyes, they shifted from Magnus’s face, down to the collar, and it honestly set Alec a little on edge. Those eyes suddenly glamoured to regular blue eyes. His hair colour toned down, and his skin became a healthy colour. In another instant, his glamour shattered. “Niamh made that. It’s mine. I’ll get you out of it, but I’m keeping it.” He glanced from Magnus, to glare at Alec.

“I want nothing to do with it,” Magnus said, pulling at it once more. “You can have it. Please, just get it off!”

Wilhiem seemed deaf to Magnus’s plea, and Alec realized he was waiting for his word. “You can keep it. I won’t mention it to the Clave.”

The man took another sip of alcohol, a crackle of thunder heard once more, and a glass shattered in another room. “On the Angel.”

“I swear on the Angel, I will not mention that you have the collar to the clave.”

“I’d prefer you don’t mention it, period.”

“Yeah, well, I might not have a choice on that one,” Alec said. “They were using it to keep Magnus from using his powers, and then to drain his magic into an orb. Do you know anything about that?”

“The orb!” Wilhiem dropped the teacup, however it didn’t quite reach the floor, and the liquid swirled around inside like a little tornado. In a moment, the cup was back in his hand, and he set it on the counter. “How much power does it have?”

“He syphoned my magic twice,” Magnus said.

“Not good,” Wilhiem said. “The more magic, the bigger the bomb.”

“It’s a bomb, of course it’s a bomb,” Áine muttered. “Couldn’t plant magical flowers with healing properties, no better make a bomb. Damn it, Niamh.”

“Don’t blame her,” Wilhiem said. Behind him, glasses floated at random. “It was at the request of the Queen.”

Áine frowned. “I can’t wait to kill that bitch.”

“Good luck,” Wilhiem said. He stepped over to Magnus, eyeing Alec warily. “Let’s get this off of you.”

“ _Please_ ,” Magnus said, with an edge of desperation.

 “Release,” Wilhiem said, and the device unlatched, and was caught in his waiting hands.

“Release? I just had to tell it to let go?” Magnus rubbed his hands at the raw skin of his neck.

“No, it works to my voice… and Niahm’s.” Wilhiem held the collar with reverence. “It was never supposed to be taken from us.”

Magnus held out his hands, and while he feared the pain he’d become accustom to when using his magic with the collar, it didn’t come. Blue flames licked over his fingers, and tears streamed down his face. “I’m okay. My magic is okay.” He looked up at Alec, and found him smiling fondly, Magnus smiled back.

Wilhiem clamped the collar around his own neck, the glasses all suddenly fell, something large in the front of the house also fell, and the sound of rain abruptly stopped. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “That’s better.”

“Thank you,” Magnus said.

“You’re welcome. Thank you for returning this to me,” Wilhiem said. “Would any of you like tea?” He glanced around. “I’m sure one of my teapots must have survived.”

Magnus smirked, his magic flaring out, putting glasses, mugs, and teapots back together. The splinters of the dining set all came together again, their cushions and stuffing back in place. The knives all made it back into the block. The kitchen looked more or less back to normal.

“Don’t overdo it,” Wilhiem warned, but looked pleased.

“Please,” Magnus said, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt. “I’m just getting warmed up.” He glanced at Alec, studying the red marks around his lips, the bruises. “Here, Darling, let me.”

Alec captured his hands, and kissed the fingertips on his right hand. “No.”

“No?”

“Not yet.”

Magnus’s eyes narrowed.

“I want the Clave to see how far Aldertree has fallen,” Alec said, firm in his decision. “You can’t erase my evidence.”

Magnus frowned. “Alexander.”

“I’m okay,” he promised.

“Everyone okay with Hibiscus tea?” Wilhiem asked, holding up a tin.

Magnus tore his eyes away from Alec, to nod at Wilhiem. “That’s fine. Thank you.” He smiled, just a little as Alec’s hand brushed against his, their fingers interlacing.


	23. Chapter 23

Clary paced.

She counted the tiles on the ceiling (there were ninety-six.)

She felt every inch of the walls, looking for a weakness.

She pounded her fists against the door until sides of her hands hurt, and were red.

She screamed, loud at first, it becoming weak and hoarse as time went on.

And time went on.

And on.

_And on._

**_And on_**.

Exhausted, she laid back on the double bed, her hands smoothing over the lovely duvet cover. She traced the gold thread, trying to calm her breathing. There were no weapons, nor anything she use as one. She no longer had the company of her friends.

The likelihood of getting her hands on a Stele again seemed unlikely at best, impossible at worst. As much as it pained her, there was little she could do but wait and see where the pieces fell.

::

When the random number appeared on Simon’s phone, the young vampire thought about ignoring it. Probably a telemarketer. However, with how peculiar his life had been over the past months, and with Clary, Jace, and Jocelyn still missing he couldn’t very well ignore it. What if they’d actually escaped?

With a bit too much hope in his chest, he hit ‘accept,’ and put the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Simon, it’s Maryse Lightwood.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it again. It was uncommon for him to be at a loss of words. “Hi,” he said slowly, unsure of what would prompt her to call him of all people.

“I need you to be honest.” She managed to be intimidating without even being physically present. “Is Isabelle with you?”

His dark eyes darted to the other side of the room where Isabelle stood, looking over old papers. “Uh, no.” He winced; it had come out more like a question than a statement.

“Let me rephrase that,” Maryse said, her voice going hard. “The Clave has had a shift, there is someone new overlooking the Institute. I can’t protect Isabelle if she isn’t here. I already have two missing sons, I’m not going to let my daughter be the next pawn in Valentine’s game. Now, is Isabelle with you?”

Isabelle turned and looked at him, he pointed to his phone, and she walked over. He covered the mic. “Your mom,” he whispered.

“Mom? She’s… okay.”

“Vampire. NOW.” Maryse snarled over the phone.

Turmoil clear on Isabelle’s face, she looked at the phone, then motioned for it. Simon put it in her hand. “Mom?”

“Isabelle!” Simon’s vampire hearing ensured he could still listen to the conversation. The immense relief in the woman’s voice reminded him that she was human… or at least in part. “Thank the Angel! You left under lockdown, what were you thinking?”

“That no one was out looking for my brothers, instead marking them as traitors they would never-“

“I know,” Maryse said. “Of course, I know.”

Isabelle looked to Simon, her eyes wide, clearly overwhelmed. “Mom, I need you and Dad to come to the Dumort. I’ll clear things with Raphael… probably. Come alone.”

“Do you have something?”

“Yeah,” Isabelle said. “Two somethings.”

::

Raphael, standing in the lobby of the Dumort pressed his fingers to his temples. After having Isabelle beg him to permit her parents entry- something which he ultimately caved to, only because Magnus would want Alec to be able to see his parents- he then had to deal with four Shadowhunters at his door.

Lily looked about ready to murder as she stood in the dark corner, as far from the door as she could get while still glaring at them.

“What do you want?” Raphael demanded.

“I don’t want anything,” the shorter blonde replied. “I’m Lydia Branwell. Tonight, we were hunting a pack of demons, they… laid eggs in a few mundanes, and one vampire.”

“Did they survive?”

The woman at least looked regretful. The other blonde looked about ready to be sick. “No. There were no survivors,” she said softly.

“Lydia?” Isabelle stepped out of the other room, and dashed through the light still coming through the half-open door.

“Izzy? I should have known!” The two women hugged. “I’m glad you’re okay. Lockdown is over-“

“What?”

“Yeah, Aldertree is out of power-“

“Is he still at the Institute?” Isabelle asked, her voice sharp and angry.

“No, he left for Idris this morning.”

“Damn it!”

“Iz?”

“I trust you.”

“Okay?”

Isabelle glanced at the other three. Her eyes lit up. “Aline!”

Aline smiled, just a little, clearly exhausted. “Hey, Izzy. It’s been a while.”

Isabelle glanced at the other two, clearly related. “Mark and Helen Blackthorn,” Lydia explained. “Look, I’ll fill you in.”

“Looks like I’ve missed a lot.”

“Oh, yeah!”

::

Magnus portals himself, Alec, and Áine back to the Dumort. “Raphael! I’m back!” he said, his magic still flickering over his fingers, delighted with the return of his power. He looked up to find Robert and Maryse Lightwood staring in shock. Clearly, Isabelle who stood next to them hadn’t had time to explain.

Alec came through the portal next, his eyes widening, jaw going slack. “Mom?” Magnus felt pained, he’d never heard his lover sound so young.

“Alec!” And she was across the room, and had him pulled into her strong arms.

His arms tightened around her, his face resting on her shoulder. “You’re awake. You’re okay?” He pulled back a little. “Are you alright?”

Tears had pooled in her eyes, but they didn’t fall. Her hands cupped Alec’s jaw, and she appeared deaf to his questions. Her thumbs brushed close to the closed marks on his face. “Valentine,” she spat the name like a curse, like a promise of a death warrant on the man who dared harm her son.

“Aldertree,” Alec corrected.

“What?” Robert snapped.

Aine returns through the portal, and Magnus closed it.

“Aldertree did this,” Alec said. “In the City of Bones.”

“He’s working with Valentine,” Maryse stood to her full height. “I’ll kill him myself.”

“Why hasn’t anyone given you an Iratze?” Robert said, looking every bit as irritated as he sounded. With Stele in hand he took one step forward, and Alec took instinctively back. “Alec?”

“No. I… no.”

“Tick tock,” Raphael said, brushing his hand down the arm of his suit jacket. “I don’t want Shadowhunters here long-term. The agreement was a half-hour.”

“We aren’t here on Clave business,” Robert said. “We’re here for our children.”

“Yes, your children. Now take them.”

Áine stood close to Raphael. “Now, now. If we have a chance at taking down Valentine, we’re going to have to play nice.”

“This is me playing nice,” Raphael deadpanned.

“Valentine has made his next move,” Maryse said.

At that, Raphael’s attention went fully to her. As did the attention of everyone else in the room. Alec, Áine, Aline, Magnus, Simon, Lily, Lydia, Mark, Helen, Isabelle, and Robert all looked at her. “He contacted Jia Penhallow this morning.”

“The current Consul?” Áine said.

“Yes. Also, acting head of the New York Institute.” Maryse crossed her arms over her chest. “Either surrender, or be overrun by demons. Starting with Idris.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” Lily said.

“Shadowhunters around the world will go to protect our home,” Isabelle said. “If Idris falls…”

“There won’t be any Shadowhunters to fight in the cities,” Alec continued. “Demons will overrun the skeleton crews at Institutes. There won’t be any Shadowhunters left. We’ll be wiped out.”

“As much as it pains me to admit it,” Magnus said with a frown, “the entire Downworld would fall soon after. There is a reason we have Shadowhunters, a reason we sign the treaties, follow their laws. They can wield the Seraphic weapons, their runes protect them, they were built to destroy demons. We could create a stronghold for a while, but if Valentine takes Idris, we’re all dead.”

Raphael could feel Lily’s gaze on him. Áine pressed into his side. “We need the alliance.”

“You don’t get to tell him what we need,” Lily snarled, her fangs snapping out.

Áine cocked her head to the side. “Oh, so you want to die?”

Lily took a step forward, her hands balling into fists. “You just want us to sacrifice ourselves for this cause.”

“That would imply that I wouldn't be fighting, which I will be, and that I want you or your brethren to die, which I don’t.” Áine glanced at Raphael. “I don’t have time for this. You will do with your clan what you feel you must, but it’s suicide at this point not to support the Shadowhunters. Speaking of which, I have a Queen to murder, I’ll be off.”

“Just like that,” Raphael said, surprised into smiling at someone who spoke so casually of murder.

She smirked back, and nodded. “What timeline do we have before Valentine attacks Idris?” she asked, glancing over at Maryse.

Maryse checked her watch. “Forty-two hours and counting.”

“Then I don’t have time to waste,” Áine said. “We need the Seelie army.”


	24. Chapter 24

Jace didn’t remember falling asleep. What he did remember was laying on the floor, and listening to profound screaming. It wasn’t Clary, or Jocelyn and it brought him a short-lived sense of relief. The pained wails echoed in his mind, and vibrated through his bones leaving him feeling like a livewire. Everything ached.

A spark caught his attention. He glanced to the side where he saw it, but it was no more, he continued staring. Strength, Stamina, Unlock, Angelic Powe- his eyes shot back up his arm to a rune he was sure hadn’t been there earlier. After all, Shadowhunters didn’t wear the unlock rune, it was placed upon things that had been locked. Putting it on a person didn’t do anything.

“I’m dreaming,” he muttered to himself.

If that were the case, he figured, he certainly wasn’t staying there. He hopped up, and went to the door. Pressing his hand against it, the lock clicked. Deep down, he hadn’t expected it to work. He pulled open the door, and took a careful peek down the hall- empty.

The screaming left him weak in the knees, but he followed it, drawn to it. Weapons, a Stele, a means to escape, or to map out this hellhole, that’s what he knew he should be doing. Instead, he followed the noise to a room. Again, he pressed his hand to the door, and the lock switched over. The screaming quieted a little, and he slowly opened the door, half-expecting Valentine, or Sebastian, but this only confirmed it was only a dream.

Clary sat on bed, her head bowed, her hands over her ears. He shut the door behind himself, and rushed to her. “Clary,” he grabbed her wrists and she shot up in surprise.

“Jace!” Shock gave way to excitement and she threw herself into his arms. “Jace! How did you get here, did Valentine send you?”

“No. I unlocked the door with the rune on my arm,” he said with a roll of his eyes. He brushed a strand of hair from her face.

“You have a Stele!”

“No,” he replied, a little dazed. “Angels, this is a weird dream.”

“You’re not dreaming, we’re awake,” Clary said, and as if to prove her point, she pinched his arm. Hard.

“Ow!” Jace frowned at her but she smirked. “Okay, not a dream. Have you heard that screaming?”

“Yes.” All of Clary’s elation slipped from her face. “I kept trying to escape, to help, but had no means. After a while, it quieted.”

The screaming turned up a notch, and they both winced. “Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand, but she moved to the door without much provocation. They both felt it, he knew, they had to find out what was screaming.

::

Áine stood naked before the full-length mirror. Her wings were soft, still a little slimy, and a beautiful translucent with interwoven green and gold pattern. Cora returned to her, now rid of the knife she’d used for the slicing- a ritualistic act of slicing the wing sacs.

“They look weak,” Cora noted.

“They were just released,” Áine replied, mildly miffed. Many Seelies took their wings with a good deal of pride, and she was one of them.  “Of course they are.”

“How much movement do you have in them?”

Áine shifted them, only slightly, they fell back, draping down her backside, tapering off by her ankles. “Not much.”

Cara sighed. “Can you harden them?”

Try as she might, Áine couldn’t get them to solidify as she used to. “No.”

“We should have left them in their pods,” Cora whispered. “They’re of no use to you, but they are a rather large, soft target.”

Áine turned, and ran her thumb over Cara’s cheek. “Relax, I’ll be fine. You saw me as Queen. How could I lose?” The door opened, and she turned her attention from Cara, to Niv who kicked the door closed behind him. He set a box on the table and it clanged. “Is that chainmail?”

Her eager hands pulled open the box, and felt comfortable with Niv at her side, his fingers gently running over her new wings. He quickly pulled his fingers back. “Disgusting, they’re not dry yet.”

She threw him a smile. “It’s not that gross.”

“It’s is,” he replied dryly. He then pulled out pieces of her armour, looking strikingly similar to one of her old sets. The chainmail in gold, the brown leather with dents of leaves. “This is… this is one of my old sets?”

“Yes,” Niv replied. “Meliorn smuggled it out. He wishes you luck.”

Her fingers ran over the material. “Let’s get me suited up then.”

::

Alec stood awkwardly by the window. His father had drawn him aside to talk, but stayed silent. Unsure about how to continue, he continued to stare outside, and occasionally glance at Robert. It took a while, but his father finally spoke. “You’re a Shadowhunter, Alec. You need your runes.”

He swallowed down the bit of bile that came up with the mere mention of runes. “I know.”

“You’re afraid.” It sounded like a statement, but it still hit with the weight of an accusation.

Alec reached up and touched the back of his neck, the raised bit of flesh in the shape of the Agony rune. He couldn’t see it, but Magnus said it wasn’t an angry red anymore. He had already explained to his family about Jonathan, Valentine’s true son. He told them, and the rest of their little resistance about the Agony rune, and about how Aldertree had sewn his lips shut.

“Yes,” Alec admitted. “And angry. I’m scared and angry. The last few times I’ve had a Stele touch my skin…” he shook his head. “I-“ he looked away from his father, glanced at the group, the few vampires in the room could probably hear him. His eyes went back to staring at the blackout glass. “I thought I would die.”

“Ale-“

His eyes shifted to look at his father. “And I would have welcomed it.”

True horror touched his father’s face, and he felt a little guilty for putting it there.

“I… I don’t know how to get past that. I know all runes hurt, but this-“ he ran his hands through his hair. “It was every horror I’ve ever lived, every pain I’ve ever felt compiled and amplified.”

“Jace needs you. When Áine becomes Queen,“ Robert said it with no room for doubt, “she will get us access to that pocket of the realm. We will need you at full strength. _Jace_ needs you.”

Alec sighed. “Playing my parabatai against me?”

“Is it working?”

“Even thinking about runes makes me feel sick,” he admitted softly.

“Then draw mine.” Robert slowly pulled his Stele from his pocket. “I trust in you absolutely, my son.”

“Dad I can’t-“

“You can,” he twirled the Stele around his fingers- he was whom Jace adopted the habit from. “Can you feel him? Jace?”

“Yes.” Alec had also explained to just his parents about how his bond with Jace had amplified.

“And how is he?”

While he hadn’t been blocking the bond, neither had he been monitoring it. If anything too extreme were to happen, the shock through the bond would alert him. However, he had to actually pay attention. “He’s… in pain.” His fingers shook, fear for his parabatai taking hold. “It’s not bad, but he’s in pain. There’s confusion.” He put the blocks back up, hoping that Jace didn’t feel his moment of panic.

“He’s going to need _you,_ Alec.” Robert frowned. “I was afraid of runes, my first one damn near killed me. The fear never completely goes away, but you have a choice. Let the fear rule you, or rule your fear.” He held out the Stele once again. “You decide.”

Alec grabbed the Stele. He took a deep breath, and his father pulled up a sleeve. “You can do it.”

Envisioning strength, he got a good grip on the Stele, took a deep breath, and hovered the end over his father’s flesh. The Stele shook so violently, he grabbed his wrist with his other hand to try and steady himself. “Damn it!” 

He sensed more than saw Magnus, the man walking up behind him. “Relax, Darling,” he placed his warm hand on his lower back, tendrils of magic smoothing over his back.

The shaking in his hand stopped, and Alec glanced up at his father once more just to be sure. Robert nodded, and Alec drew the first line, continuing until it was bold on his skin. He pulled back, as his father made a fist. “Good.”

“Can you mark yourself now?” Magnus asked, his voice soft.

If there was ever a time they would be in use of a little luck, it was now. Picturing the Good Luck rune, he pressed the Stele to his skin. He knew it would hurt, but the initial sting shocked him so much he drew back.

“It’s okay,” Magnus said.

“Try again,” Robert said. “You’ve got this.”

Breathing heavily, he thought of his time in the Silent City. Of the needle and wire, of blood and screams. His hand shook, and he dropped the Stele. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Robert sighed. “Your bond with Jace. Do you still feel him?”

“Yes, of course,” Alec said. He reached out through the bond, felt Jace’s soul, the core of it in a way that he shouldn’t have been able too, and didn’t fully understand. Bravery, goodness, and love. Before he lost it, he bent to retrieve the Stele, and while riding the bit of bravery Jace currently was he drew the Good Luck rune without pause.

“Well… that was unexpected, I thought I was going to have to do more prodding,” Robert said, with a proud smile.  

“Jace is brave, so I was too,” Alec said, not truly understanding. “I really need to talk to him about this bond.”

“Yes, after a Queen is killed, your brother and the Fairchild’s rescued, and we stop Valentine from destroying Idris,” Robert said.

“Busy night,” Magnus said.

Robert studied him a moment before nodding. “Yes, it will be.”


	25. Chapter 25

Inside the Hotel Dumort, everyone waited for word from the Seelies. Raphael would be the first to know if Áine fell, her life force tethered to his. He’d gone to his room, under the guise of getting some sleep during the daylight hours, but the reality was he wanted the peace, silence, and darkness of his room.

He sat on the bed, waiting. He didn’t even breathe in fear of missing something. He couldn’t feel the bond, had she not been gloated into telling him about it, he’d have never been any wiser. If she died, they would have lost any Seelie allies, and access to the realm. They could still, in theory protect Idris.

Most of the Shadowhunters had already left. The younger ones; Lydia, Mark, Helen, and Aline had gone with Robert Lightwood. Maryse, Alec, and Isabelle remained in the Dumort, with Magnus as well.

Once, Raphael had thought the Uprising would be the worst thing that would happen between the Shadowhunters and the Downworlders. Now, he knew better. Older, wiser.

There would be death on a great scale. Perhaps not if Áine won the court, if she could gain them access, if they could kill Valentine and retrieve the cup.

Maybe.

He wanted to hope. He wanted Áine to survive, surprisingly not just because of the battle advantages. As she’d walked away with her companions, dressed in full battle armour, her hair done up in complex braids- she’d looked back at him, her lips curving into a grin, and winked in his direction. She embodied life, and love, and had a pure nature- despite her skill in battle- that somehow captured his attention every time she walked into the room.

And he had no idea what to do with that.

Even more terrifyingly, he was afraid that he wouldn’t get the chance to find out.

::

The moment Áine entered the Faerie Realm, her entire body hummed with energy, syncing to the world in which her magic knew. Her wings shivered, and goosebumps rose on her arms. Home. She breathed in the scent of the Sephia bushes, the bold pink blooms made a tinkling noise as the wind blew through their petals. The vibrant colours nearly blinding after spending so much time in the mortal realm that it took her eyes a moment to adjust.

“Beautiful,” she commented, Niv to her left, and Cara to her right. As much as she’d rather take a moment to appreciate her home, they were on the clock, and had work to do. She turned to Niv. “You’ve contacted Rowan?”

“Yes,” Niv said. “He supports you, so does most of the army.”

Áine grinned. “Excellent.”

Cara grabbed her hand. “And here I leave you, My Heart.”

“We could talk to the High Court after,” Áine said, her concern shown little on her face, but with a squeeze of her hand.

“The support of the Queens could turn the tide in your favour. We’d be fools not to appeal to them,” Cara said. “And as a former handmaiden to The Lady of the Water, I will be granted entry, and audience. I’m the only one who can do this.”

Áine took a deep breath, held it a moment, trying to get her jittery heart back into control. “I know. Come back to me.”

Cara smiled, her eyes filled with tears. “You will make a great Queen, My Heart.” She surged up onto her toes, capturing Áine’s lips.

The warrior melted into the searing kiss, and wished they had more time. Alas, she pulled away. “I love you.”

“And I you,” Cara promised. She looked to Niv. “Take care of our girl.”

“Take care of yourself,” he replied deeply, his dark eyes narrowing.

Cara closed the space between them and hugged the man tightly around the waist. Áine tilted her head, while her lovers were friends, it was odd to see them so close. He awkwardly patted her shoulder, and Áine couldn’t help the grin.

The petite blonde pulled up her cloak, and turned away without another word. Áine pulled her sword, the blade glinting in the unnaturally bright light of the Realm. “Let’s go.”

After a few moments, Áine could feel a shift. They’d made it to the Stone Glades, and she knew they wouldn’t have to travel farther. “I can feel her. She’s here.”

“Why would she be?” Niv asked, glancing around, looking for shapes of fey around the treeline. “She should be in court.”

“She must have known I was coming,” Áine said softly.

“Only if we have a traitor.”

“A liar.”

Niv’s hands balled into fists. “A human turned.”

Humans who spent too much time in the Realm started to gain faerie qualities. Pointed ears, unusual complexions or eyes, eventually they developed a dash of magic, some even intermediate use of it, some- those who stayed for decades, who swore fealty to a Queen, they could eventually be considered true Seelies. But they weren’t born Seelies. There was one human quality the Realm could never rid humanity of; the ability to lie.

One came to mind, one who had the knowledge of their plan, one she’d trusted, one she’d now been betrayed by. “Meliorn.”

“Bravo,” the Queen walked from the treeline with a crown of golden thorns on her head, and a flimsy dress barely covering her body.

Other faeries emerged, the hum of energy taking over the Glades. Seelies waiting to see who would come out on top.

“You had potential, Áine,” the Queen said. “But you’ve fallen so far from grace.”

“You’re working with Valentine Morgenstern, harbouring him in the Realm.”

The shouts of outrage came from all around, the Seelies angry, lighting up with sparks of magic.

“I have my own plans,” the Queen said. “I’ll let the Shadowhunters wipe themselves out, and then we can take back the world as we want.” She clicked her fingers and Áine felt her armour tighten. “A foolish thing, trust.”

“We can align ourselves with Shadowhunters,” Áine said, struggling only to have her clothing constrict further. Meliorn had her armour cursed before bringing it to Niv to deliver. “We can align ourselves w-with Warlocks, and Vampires, and W-werewolves.” She felt Niv trying to pull the clothing away, to unfasten buckles, even traces of his dark magic to counteract it, but nothing worked. “United we can destroy Valentine. We all have friends in the Downworld, and without the Shadowhunters they _will_ die.”

She could feel her power grow, no longer was her air constricted. She breathed freely, and moved a step forward with grace. The other Queens must have backed her, it would explain the sudden burst of magical energy. Cara had done it.

Áine raised her rapier and pointed it at the Queen. “To trust is not foolish. I believe in this Court, I believe in the good hearts of Seelies. We will not be Valentine’s puppets-“ the crowd cheered, and she raised her voice- “And you will not lead us into the Eternal Dark.” Her eyes blazing with gold. “But I’ll take you to the Endless one.”

With that, she charged.

Much like with the Alpha disputes of the Werewolves, no one could interfere with the Battle of Queens. They were few, and far between, but the Seelies were respectful, watching, sending their own energy out to their Queen of choice.

Their current Queen relied too much on magic, too much on her army, too much on the court continuing as it had for centuries. She had no skill with a sword. Áine moved with swift grace, avoiding the blasts of magic. It was easy, so easy to dance around the Queen, cutting and slicing at vulnerable tendons until the Queen collapsed.

“Please,” the Queen begged, staring up, magic flickering and dying with her lack of support. “Áine, please, don’t.”

“Did you give Niamh mercy?” Áine  asked, with her blade pressed against the throat of the Queen. “Or Cillian, or Yaelish? Did you give them mercy?”

The Queen’s eyes watered. “Please, I shall be in your debt.”

“You already are,” Áine said coldly. “And it’s time to pay.”

The blade pierced the vulnerable flesh of her throat, blood rushed out the wound spilling around the golden rapier until it was pulled out. The former Queen's body fell limp, bloody, and lifeless to the ground. The crowd cheered, but Áine barely heard it. Killing the Queen hadn’t brought back her loved ones, it hadn’t made the ache in her chest go away, but it finally brought it up to the surface.

She choked on a sob, and felt Niv behind her. “Stay strong,” he warned. “Just a little longer. Look.” He motioned with his hand, and she followed it to Rowan emerged from the crowd, Meliorn shackled, her army following.

Rowan kicked the back of Meliorn’s knee forcing him to fall. With a hand still on Meliorn’s shoulder, Rowan clapped his fist over his heart. “My Queen.” Soon after, the rest of the army did the same gesture, their fists over hearts, silently swearing fealty to her. “What shall we do with him?”

“For now, lock him up.” Áine said, shoving her emotions back down. They could be dealt with once they’d defeated Valentine, and acquired the cup. “He could be useful.”

“At once,” Rowan said, motioning forward other guards to take him away. “The army serves you, My Lady.”

“Good,” Áine nodded. “We have work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Eternal Dark- I'll go into this a bit later in the story (so long as it doesn't get cut for a second time) but think of it like a jedi going dark-side.  
> *Endless Dark- Death with no rebirth. Seelies believe when one is found worthy, they will be reborn, when found unworthy, they are sent to the Endless Dark and basically become demons. It's often argued about what being 'unworthy' means. Their lore is much argued among their own people.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I was going strong with updates, and then had some 'technical difficulties' which included a day where my laptop just decided to not boot up at all. The fear was real. I hadn't backed up in like a year. I have like 40 pages of a Malec Soulmate AU story written and thought I lost it (I'll be posting when it's all done so there won't be a wait between chapters- and I'm so fucking thrilled about this story, you don't even know how crushed I was to think I'd lost it). Anyway, my laptop is still garbage, but it's working - most of the time. Trying to get back to updating regularly ;) 
> 
> This chapter is a little shorter than usual, but it felt like a good place to cut it before the next segment.   
> Murder and suicide is mentioned in this chapter- just a heads up.

No.

Not possible.

Jace froze on the staircase, his hand gripping Clary’s tight. He looked to her, her face showing the same mix of awe and horror that surely displayed upon his own. They’d followed the horrific screaming through the halls and into a library. In the library they’d spun in circles trying to figure out where the screaming was coming from, until they realized, underneath them. On their hands and knees they searched the interlocking stones until Clary discovered one with a locked rune on it. Jace’s hand over it had unlocked it, and the stones had shifted to show a staircase.

The staircase lead into a sub-basement.

And there they found…

Jace shook his head, his eyes closing tight. No, it isn’t possible.

“By the Angel,” Clary said. Her hand pulled on his as she walked down the last two steps.

Heart beating all too fast, Jace took in the room. Vials, jars, knives with rust on them- no, not rust, dried blood. Clary lead him around the table and to the kneeling man, weighed down by chains.

No.

Not a man.

An angel.

A real angel.

Jace stared, unable to believe it.

 _Jace._ His name echoed in his mind, the Angel’s way of speaking much like that of the Silent Brothers. The angel, _Ithuriel,_ held out his hand, the runed cuffs chaining him to the floor. Jace lifted his own hand in return. The angel then held out his other hand tilted slightly for Clary.

Clary glanced over at Jace who nodded, they both stood with their hands close, but not touching the angel. Ithuriel’s cold fingers threaded through theirs and when they clamped down, the visions came-

_“Celine,” Valentine’s voice a rumble. “You need to eat.”_

_“What are you giving me?” she asked, her voice trembling. Blonde curls pinned away from her face, but spiralled down, abandoning the control she tried to exert over them. “I don’t think this is right, this isn’t-“ she gasped as Valentine’s hand grabbed her wrist in a way that looked painful._

_“Your child will be strong, stronger than any other Shadowhunter,” he pulled out a syringe. “A Herondale will help make the Clave righteous again.” He cocked his head to the side, his eyes boring into her. “You want to help, don’t you, Celine?”_

_The woman’s blue eyes looked lost, but she nodded. “Of course, Valentine.” Her words little more than a whisper. “We’re friends, I believe in your vision.”_

_“This will make the baby healthy, and strong,” he pressed the needle into her arm._

_\--_

_Celine’s haunting voice sung a lullaby, a song never heard but instantly familiar, and left a longing in Jace’s heart. Her fingers danced over her stomach, a smile breaking free ending her melancholy. “Good kick, little one.”_

_To her right, a flame licked along the table leaving a fire message in its wake. The smile faltered as she read the words. “Stephen. No. No. No!” With a great gasp, she fell to her knees, holding the letter close to her chest, letting out a pained scream._

_\--_

_Celine stood in her bedroom, things of Stephen’s strewn over the bed, her fingers gripping tight to the Herondale family ring. She turned as the footfalls entered the room. “Val,” she whispered the nickname like a prayer, like he might be able to save her from her grief. “Stephen is gone.”_

_“I know,” Valentine said._

_“I’m sorry, Celine,” Hodge said from behind him._

_She nodded, tears falling from her eyes, a hand laid protectively over her stomach. “I want him back,” she sobbed, her eyes turning to the two men she clearly trusted._

_“I know,” Valentine said, his arms opening slightly as he stepped closer. “Come here.”_

_A great sob tore from her throat as the ring slipped down her thumb, much bigger on her than it had been on her husband. She moved towards Valentine’s embrace, only to have him grab her wrist, his body moving hers until her wrist was pinned to the wall. Her gasp, her eyes widened in shock as she tried to jerk away from his grip._

_“Hodge!” Valentine snarled, and the man shook himself out of his stupor taking Celine’s other wrist, pinning it to the wall._

_“Wha-Why?” Celine struggled, sobbing. “Please, Valentine! Hodge!”_

_“I’m sorry,” Hodge whispered._

_“Just do it,” Valentine said, pulling a knife._

_“No! No, my baby, please don’t hurt my baby!” Her struggle intensified, training kicking in after the shock of betrayal. Her foot connected hard with Hodge’s shin, but he grit his teeth and bore it._

_“The baby will be fine,” Valentine said. “But, you’re not fit to be his mother.”_

_“Stop! Stop! Not my baby, not my baby-“ a shriek tore from her throat as Valentine dragged the knife down her wrists, Hodge doing the same on the other side._

_“I’m sorry,” Hodge said. “I’m so sorry.”_

_\--_

Jace felt sick to his stomach. He could imagine what happened after. They’d killed her, and taken her child from her lifeless body- taken him… Clary’s hand on his wrist was warm, and comforting.

“What did he give her,” Jace asked Ithuriel, even though he thought he already had it figured out.

_Angel blood._

Ithuriel’s blood. His hands went to his hair, pushing it back a little before pulling, the little pinpricks of pain bringing him focus.

_He also gave it to Jocelyn. Your gifts are because of the angel blood._

Jace took a deep breath, his mind reeling. “My ability to use runes without a Stele.”

Clary wrung her hands. “My new runes.”

 _A gift._ Ithuriel reached out with both hands, the chain between them settled lightly on the bridge of Clary’s nose while his hands pressed to her temples.

Clary took a deep breath as Ithuriel’s hands fell away. “What does it do?”

_You will understand._

Jace reached out, grabbing at the thick metal bands that bound the angel and thought about the unlocking rune, focused his energy and the runes blazed on the manacles before they burst open. “Thank you,” Jace said, his voice carrying the weight of everything he’d learned, from the true horror of the man who raised him, to the fight of the woman who bore him, to the understanding of his and Clary’s gifts. “My mother…

 _Tried to protect you, wanted to protect you._ Ithuriel’s eyes were soft with empathy. _She was betrayed and murdered, she did not leave this world voluntarily, she wanted to live, for you._

Jace found his cheeks wet, and quickly swiped away the tears with the back of his hand.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

 _Now I need your help,_ Ithuriel said as they heard footsteps on the upper floor.

“Anything,” Jace swore for nothing could ever make them even for what Valentine had done to this angel for years.

_Kill me. Please. Don’t let him use me further. Let me go home._

To kill an angel. Jace’s stomach twisted, and he swallowed back bile at the though alone. He looked over and found a seraph dagger covered in blood. He picked it up, looked at the blade, then to the angel.

 _It’s okay, Jace._ The angels eyes, soft and forgiving. _I cannot remain here. Set me free._

With his hand on Ithuriel’s bony shoulder, his fingers flexed over the blade grip. “Be free,” Jace whispered as he plunged the blade through. The angel smiled before the body disintegrated and wisps of white light danced around the room before disappearing through the walls.

“Someone is coming,” Clary said, even though her eyes were red-rimmed and glassy. “We have to go.”

He put his hand against the wall and thought of the portal rune. “Come on. Come on,” he whispered. No matter how hard he visualized, he couldn’t get it to work. “Maybe I don’t remember it right?” he whispered, mostly to himself.   


“Hide!” Clary said, pushing him toward the table and ducking low.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The technical difficulties are so real.   
> Laptop, why must you hurt me this way?  
> *sigh*  
> I'm so sorry. Writing is going slow since my laptop just likes to crash every now and then with no damn warning.

Niv’s long shadow darkened the room in the Hotel Dumort where everyone had been waiting. Alec stood, and Magnus pulled himself up to stand beside him. Maryse and Isabelle stopped their conversation to look. Simon and Lily stopped bickering, and Raphael came in from behind him.

“She lives,” Raphael said with sureness.

“She is the Queen who reigns.”

Alec let out the breath he’d been holding. “Good. Can she get us access to the pocket of the realm that our people are being held in?”

“Yes,” Niv replied. “That’s why she sent me to fetch you.”

They’d all been hoping, waiting, praying for this outcome and were armed and ready for battle. Alec reached around to touch his arrows, reassuring himself. Magnus’s magic danced around his fingertips before extinguishing, cat eyes flickered. “We’ve never really gone to battle together, not like this,” Magnus mused as they followed Niv and Raphael through the hotel.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe,” Alec said.

“And I you,” Magnus replied. “Any battle hints I should know of?”

“Keep to my left if you can,” Alec said. “I draw right handed, when I get into stance, it’ll leave my back exposed. Jace always has that side…”

“I’ll have you protected. I promise.”

::

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Jonathan’s voice echoed down into the cellar where Clary and Jace were huddled in a terrible hiding spot.

Her hand found his, their fingers interwoven and tightly gripped each other. Jace still had the dagger in his other hand. His heart beat so fast he feared that Jonathan would be able to hear it pounding against his ribcage. It would be one thing to face him alone, but to face his wrath after helping Ithuriel escape, with Clary at his side- no- his hand tightened and he felt her fingernails dig into the back of his hand when she tightened her grip in return.

The heavy footsteps on the stairs ceased and they heard a muffled yell. They both held their breath, waiting. Jonathan switched direction and his footsteps went back up, getting quieter until they could no longer hear them.

Jace released the breath he’d been holding. “I’m sorry, I can’t work the portal rune.”

“Maybe it has to be a rune on your body.” Clary shrugged, her hand loosening just slightly.

“A how-to guide might have been nice,” he replied dryly. He hadn’t had an unlocking rune on his body, that he knew for sure. They were drawn on locks, they were purposeless on a body. He figured Ithruiel had something to do with it, but didn’t have time to think about it too much.

“Angelic Gifts For Dummies,” Clary said with a sardonic grin.

As he climbed to his feet, he pulled on her hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here before Jonathan returns.” They raced out of the basement, and sped to the library doors.

Jace poked his head out, but didn’t see anyone in the hall. He pulled up his shirt, and focused on his Soundless rune, it flared with gold before settling, he tapped his foot against the floor to test, and it made no sound. He flashed her a pleased grin. 

Clary pointed to his Parabatai rune, and raised her brow.

It didn’t work like that, the Parabatai rune was always active, it was a bond, like a marriage rune. However, it didn’t hurt to test it out. He stared at the rune, focusing on it, on Alec, on their mental bond, and like the Unlocking and Soundless runes before, his Parabatai rune flared gold, and he nearly stumbled from the shock of it.

He didn’t just feel confusion from Alec’s end. He heard the _‘what the Hell was that?’_

_‘Alec?’_

_‘Jace?’_

A shout. Screaming. The kids.

He lost focus, the telepathic line between them dissolving as he sprinted down the hall. The door was already unlocked, and Valentine stood there armed to the teeth. “Come with me, now!” he demanded, but he didn’t look at the children, he was staring intensely at Jocelyn.

“No.” She replied coolly, standing between Valentine and the children.

Ripples of magic made the hairs on Jace’s arms stand on end. The overhead lights sparked, and blew out. Where Magnus’s magic held a sense of control, this chaotic display appeared more Seelie in origin. Sparks of purple rippled as a portal opened. Jace hadn’t even noticed the Warlock in the corner of the room. “We must go, now! The wards have been breached!”

“Jocelyn,” Valentine stared at her intensely.

She glared, and stood her ground.

Before Jace could run in with the blade, Valentine rushed through the portal, the Warlock following. The portal swirled shut. “Damn it!” Jace snarled. He looked over his shoulder to see Clary and her mother reuniting.

The sound of a large group running had them all turning, waiting, and Jace felt himself deflate as he saw Alec’s body come to a standstill in the doorway. “Jace!”

“Alec!”

The Parabatai came together like magnets, holding each other close. Alec pulled back first, taking Jace’s face in his hands, forcing it this way and that as he searched for injuries. Jace swatted his hands away. “I’m fine.”

Alec nodded, then looked to Clary and Jocelyn, then the children. “Everyone okay?”

“Yeah, we’re all good,” Jocelyn said.

“I can’t believe he escaped,” Maryse said, looking around.

“Well, we know he’s going to Idris,” Isabelle said. “This probably upped his timeline.”

“He didn’t have the cup with him,” Clary said. “Maybe it’s still here?”

“I doubt it,” Jace said. “Did anyone see Jonathan?”

“Áine and Niv are searching, they’ve both been here before,” Magnus shuddered, and Alec extended his arm. Magnus found comfort, pressing against Alec, whose arm came down and held the Warlock tight. “I hate this place.”

“Agreed,” Jace said. “And I think we’ve all spent enough time here.”

Áine and Niv stepped in. A few of the little Shadowhunters gasped at the sight of the Queen, her rapier was coated with blood, her armour no better off. Her wings vibrated with power, and she smirked at them before raising a gloved hand and wiggling her fingers.

One of the children’s jaw dropped as he waved back, while a little girl hid behind Jocelyn.

Áine appeared amused. “There is no one here.” She informed them. “At least, no one alive. There is a body of a Warlock woman in the basement.”

“So Valentine took his pet warlock.”

“The Warlock was holding something,” Jocelyn said. “It was glinting in the light. A sword? He had it tucked under his robes.”

“The Orb,” Magnus looked up at Alec. “It had to be the Orb.”

Alec’s lips pressed into a hard line. “The bomb fueled by magic.”

“And it’s headed for Idris,” Maryse said. “We have to go. If Idris falls-“

“Shadowhunters everywhere will, it’ll only be a matter of time,” Isabelle whispered fearfully.

::

Helen’s scrawl became messy as she struggled to get all the words down on paper. Mark dictated some of his own message and with their hands both on the Stele, they sent the paper away, it burning until nothing was left. A letter for their father, for their younger siblings.

“They’ll be fine,” Mark said, his hand on his big sister’s shoulder.

There were portal’s opening all around Idris, Shadowhunters worldwide coming to protect their homeland. “Dad might still come,” Helen whispered fearfully. “He can’t. The kids still need him.”

“Dad’ll be fine,” Mark insisted. “We’ll be fine.”

“Hey,” Aline walked over to them, but whatever she’d been about to say died on her lips as her eyes strayed from Helen to the Demon Towers that protected the city. “By. The. Angel.”

Helen and Mark both turned their head to follow Aline’s gaze. The once brightly lit tower had turned blood red, and started to practically pulse with darkness. “This can’t be happening!” Helen stared in horror. “We were supposed to have more time. We don’t have a big enough force to fight a war!”

“Then we hold for reinforcements,” Mark said grabbing Helen by the shoulders and giving her a little shake. “We are going to be fine.”

Helen nodded, her hand coming to the hilt of her right-dagger. “We hold.” She looked to Aline, who nodded back. “We stick together.”

Aline pulled out her sword. “And we fight.”

::

Jocelyn shook her head. “No way, no way am I being benched for this fight, Maryse!”

“Those kids look to you,” Maryse argued. “Someone has to take them through the portal. Someone has to keep them safe.”

“Clary comes with me then,” Jocelyn said.

“No,” Clary said, her voice quiet, but calm and clear. “I have to go. I have to finish this.”

“It is not your responsibility,” Jocelyn argued. “It should be you to take the children-“

“They barely know me!” Clary snapped. “We are wasting time. Mom, you have to take those kids to the Institute where they will be safe. Magnus’s wards are still up.” She looked to Magnus with a brow raised, he nodded, assuring they were still working. “We can’t argue over this.”

“You’re not in charge,” Jocelyn responded. “And Valentine is my responsibility. I should have… I should have done something all those years ago, when I realized how dangerous he is!”

“He killed your parents,” Maryse said coolly. “You couldn’t take him on alone, and certainly not while pregnant. Your daughter is right. We are wasting time.”

“We could use the werewolves aid too,” Jace said, looking around as if expecting to see Luke.

“He went to get the pack in order while we waited to see if Áine won the battle,” Simon said.

Áine glanced over at him. “You had doubt?”

Simon flashed a grin that had a little bit of fangs. “Not even a little, Your Highness.”

“I prefer ‘Your Grace’ if we’re going to be formal,” she said with a teasing smirk.

“Get Lucian to a Warlock, you can find one on the database in the Institute,” Maryse said to Jocelyn.

“The Warlock Wilhiem Payne would be willing to assist,” Áine said.

Jocelyn sighed and looked to the children. “Alright.”

Magnus conjured a portal, and stepped aside.

Jocelyn pulled Clary into her chest, held her tight. “Be safe. I mean it. I’ll join you soon.” With that, Jocelyn grabbed the children’s hands, as they made a chain. “Don’t let go,” she said with a serious tone, and then walked with them into the portal.

Magnus closed the portal to conserve strength. “Are we ready?”

“I’d prefer to be armed with more than this,” Jace said waving the short dagger in the air.

Alec pinched the fabric of Jace’s t-shirt. “And we need to get you something more defensive than this.”

“There is an armoury here, if one knows where to look,” Áine said, motioning for everyone to follow her. In what was used as the kitchen, she pulled the bench away from the wall, pressed her hand into one of the stones, and the wall reconfigured the sound of stone grinding on stone filled the room until it all clicked into place. Áine walked in first, and then motioned them in. “It’s mostly fit to Seelie anatomy,” she said pointing to one of the armoured tops that had buckles around squares where wings might slip through. Other sets were for tall willowy figures, others for short, lithe figures.

“I can make it fit,” Magnus said, blue flames flickering around his fingers.


	28. Chapter 28

After leaving the children in the safety of the Institute with Penelope, Jocelyn stepped outside and called Luke. She slowly approached the car that the other Shadowhunter said she could use to get to the Jade Wolf. With a press of a button the door unlocked, and she practically sat on the hood of the car as her phone rang, the weight of the day settling heavily on her shoulders. Everything with Valentine tried to catch up, and she shoved it right back down. She could worry about it all later, when Clary was safe, when they were all finally safe.

“Hello?” Luke’s voice was wary on the line, and she figured it was because she’d lost her phone thanks to Aldertree, and the number on the phone Penelope gave her was new.

“Luke,” she whispered his name, and felt relief at just hearing his voice.

“Joss! You’re alright! I mean, are you okay? Clary is she-“

“We’re fine, Luke,” she replied softly. “For now, at least. Clary headed to Idris with the rest of the unit.” It hurt, to think of her baby girl going into battle.

“We’re ready to go, if you’ve got the Clave permission to get a warlock to portal us into Alicante.”

Jocelyn’s teeth ground together. “We don’t even need permission. The Institute just got word before I left, the Demon Towers are down.”

The silence on the line was deafening. “You’re saying the wards around Alicante are down?”

“Yes.” She swallowed back bile. “Anything can get in.”

“Alright, we need a warlock.”

“Áine took care of that for us, she knows one, and he doesn’t live all that far from the Jade Wolf.” For comfort, Jocelyn touched the blade on her belt. “I’ll text you the address and meet you there.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then- and Joss?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

She shut her eyes as the well of emotions threatened to overcome her. “I love you, too.” She hung up the phone, and rounded the rest of the vehicle, getting into the car. Little did she know, she had a stowaway in the backseat.

::

Mark watched in horror as the house of the Goldbrook family, a landmark of Alicante, caught flame. There were bodies in the streets, and he sidestepped a pool of blood. Another demon came at his right side, and he tucked into a roll to dodge it’s pinchers. Landing in a crouch, he held his blade up, and lunged, slicing the demon. While wounded, it hissed and spit acid that ate a hole through the cobblestone. He struck out again, the blade stabbing into the flesh and lighting it ablaze from within. The demon left a scorch mark on the ground.

He turned quickly, trying to get eyes on his allies. He caught sight of his sister’s white-blonde hair, high up in a ponytail, and whipping around as she dodged and turned with a graceful pivot.

Aline had ended up fighting in the opposite direction, getting constantly pushed back by an incredibly large demon. He shuddered. It looked like a forsaken on steroids. Aline threw her blade up as it’s arm came down, the sheer power knocking her back three steps but she couldn’t regain her balance and fell to the ground.

He glanced over at Helen, who still held her own in the fight, and made the quick decision. Running away from his sister, and toward Aline, a burst of adrenaline hitting when he heard the woman scream. Blood running cold when he saw the demon pin her down, and tear at her shirt.

Without thinking about if it was a decent battle strategy, he ran, and jumped at the demon, landing on its back while his blade slammed through its body, slightly left of the spine he’d been aiming for. The demon shrieked, and arched back, its arms reaching over, fingers grabbing at Mark who held onto the hilt of his blade with both hands twisting and jiggling the blade trying to hit something vital.

The demon caught some of his hair in hand, and the hard yank left him seeing a blinding white light for a moment. A fist grabbed his jacket and yanked him clean overhead. Mark landed hard on the cobblestone on his back, air evacuating his lungs in one breath. With the wind knocked out of him, he tried not to panic, but he couldn’t help but keep gasping for air.

He turned his head, trying to keep the demon in view; Aline had retrieved her blade and dodged around its large fists. Air finally returned to his lungs, and he gulped it down eagerly, managing to roll out of the way before the demon stepped on him. His blade still stuck out of the demon’s back, and while Aline had it distracted, he jumped back up, ripped his blade out, and slammed it between vertebrae. The demon hollered, its nails raking at its own skin as it crumpled to ashes.

After recovering his blade, he looked to Aline, her leather jacket and cotton shirt torn exposing her injured flesh, and plain black bra. Her eyes were wide, and unfocussed as she kept looking around.

“Aline?” he said softly, not moving any closer. “You need an Iratze.” He saw her blade shake in her hand, the other hand practically vibrating.

He sheathed his own blade, and pulled off his jacket. “Here.” He extended it to her, looking down at the cobblestone. “Put this on.” He could hear her sniffling, but a second later, she stripped off her tattered jacket, and accepted his. He heard her do up the zipper, only then did he glance over at her, and found her drowning in his too large jacket. “Can I help you with a rune?”

She pulled out her Stele, and pulled up the too long sleeve, her hand shaking until she let out a quiet curse. She extended the Stele to him. Careful not to make any sudden movements, he took the Stele, and drew the Iratze on her inner wrist. The moment he finished, she pulled the sleeve of his jacket back down, but rolled the ends a bit so she could get a handle on her blade.

With his hand on his own blade hilt, he turned to where he’d last seen Helen. There were a couple of Shadowhunters finishing off a demon, but they both had dark hair. His eyes continued to scan that area, then he turned further, his eyes scanning the area while he pulled his weapon back out. “Shit.”

“What?” Aline asked, her voice hoarse from screaming.

He glanced over at her, glad to see her eyes looked a little more focussed, her weapon steady in hand. “Helen. I can’t see her.” At that, Aline too did a quick spin, confirming what he already knew. Helen was nowhere in sight, and he wouldn’t be able to keep her safe. “Damn it!”

::

Magnus, the last through the portal from the Seelie Realm to Alicante, shut the portal behind himself. He’d lived a long time, but never had he even heard of Alicante being in such a state. There were houses burning, monuments smashed, bodies littering the ground, scorch marks from demons burning, drops of blood that might lead to a wounded fighter, or a body. He stuck close to Alec, who stuck close to Jace- the reunited Parabatai no in any hurry to be separated again.

“We have to find Valentine,” Jace said. “He has that Orb.”

“We also need to find Jonathan,” Isabelle said. “If Valentine didn’t have the cup when he left, it must be him who has it!”

The Queen of the Seelies looked around. “Where do we even start?”

Alec shifted, his arm brushing against Magnus’s. “The Gard? The official meeting place of the Clave, where our laws are debated, Valentine might go there.”

“It would be highly protected,” Isabelle argued.

“Angel Square would be too busy, and is probably overrun with demons,” Maryse said.

“None of the homes are monumental enough,” Jace said.

Áine frowned. “What if it’s not somewhere within Alicante? Idris is a big place, what other landmarks?”

They didn’t have any more time to debate. Simon took a step back, and into a crouch. “Guys, we’re going to have to wing it!” he pointed. “Demons!”

Áine shifted closer to Raphael, glancing at him with a little smirk. “Don’t get yourself killed.”

“I’ll try not to,” he replied.

Magnus called forth his magic, and moved away from Alec as Jace took his usual place to Alec’s left. He watched as Alec pulled his bow, his stance changing, his back open but fully guarded by Jace and his broadsword. The arrow flew true, its runes burning the demon as it slammed into the body.

“The Gard,” Alec said suddenly, his weapon lowering as he turned to his sister. “You said it would be protected. Any children would be taken there, as would any elderly, or those wounded-“

Isabelle’s whip slithered to the ground. “So?”

“If you’re going to bomb a place, make it the one with the most casualties,” Alec said. “He has to be taking the Orb to the Gard!”

Jace nodded. “We have to stop him!”

::

Jocelyn broke into a run when she saw Luke. She threw herself at him, caught up in his strong arms. She’d cry if she had the time. “I love you,” she whispered reverently, kissing his jaw before burying her face against his neck, breathing in the familiar and comforting scent of him.

“I love you too,” he whispered back. “Come on, I’ve already spoken to Wilhiem. The pack is waiting inside.”

She followed Luke into the house. The man there stood tall, a gold collar on the antique table beside him. “Is this everyone?” he asked, glancing over at the werewolves who were carefully watching the floating books that hovered around the bookshelf.

“Yes,” Luke replied.

“Right, let’s get this done,” Wilhiem said.

“Can’t you stop it with these floating books?” Alaric asked.

“Afraid not,” Wilhiem replied. “My magic’s been a little off lately.”

“That’s encouraging,” Maia muttered, her arms crossed.

“I can make a portal, there is nothing to worry about,” Wilhiem defended himself with a slight pout. “This is infinitely better than it was. I had knifes swirling around, paintings rattling, and teapots shattered.”

“Yeah,” Maia said with a roll of her eyes. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Wilhiem scoffed. He stepped away from the group and turned his back on them. The books all fell at once as he focused his power, orange wisps fluctuated in colour turning softer and softer as the portal widened glowing a soft purple turning more vibrant over time. “Go!”

Luke took Jocelyn’s hand and went first. The pack followed soon after.

::

Wilhiem watched the werewolves step through the portal, the Alpha and his Shadowhunter first, the second-in-command Alaric, the young and doubtful Maia, and then the rest of the wolves. He’d been about to close it when something darted right around his legs, startling him, his attention shifting and he saw a small figure, a child, run through the portal. “No!”

But there was nothing he could do. The child had already disappeared through the portal.

“Damn it.” It was one thing to help the lady Áine, another thing to throw himself into a battle. He paced in front of the portal. Surely the werewolves would notice, right? And if they didn’t? His magic flared with his emotions. Guilt outweighed self-preservation. He couldn’t allow the child to be hurt. With that thought he walked through the portal himself.

He’d been to Alicante once. Only once. While it looked beautiful during that visit, he’d hated it. The Shadowhunter homeland held no kindness for Warlocks. It didn’t look so beautiful now. The Werewolves were nowhere in sight.

One quick look around, and he knew he’d walked into a disaster zone. He took a few steps, glancing around for the child, but all he saw was the destruction. Ahead, in a blaze of glorious battle, he saw Áine’s bright red hair whip around with her body’s graceful movements. Perhaps she would know what to do. His magic tingled, burning against his fingertips ready to be called to defend himself at a moment’s notice. It took a while to work his way there, avoiding the main streets and large battles the best he could. A pacifist at his core, he didn’t relish the concept of fighting.

“Wil?” Áine stepped away from a small group of fighters to join him. “What are you doing here?”

“I made the portal, as you asked.”

“And?”

“And a child snuck through after the werewolves.”

“Clary?” Áine motioned a young woman with red hair over. “Are there any children in your father’s pack?”

“No,” Clary replied. “Maia is the youngest, I think.”  

“Maia came through with Luke,” Wilhiem said. “She is not whom I refer to.”

“What is going on?” A dark-haired woman asked.

“Maryse, this is Wilhiem,” Áine said. “He says a child snuck through the portal he made for the werewolves. Not a werewolf child either.”

Clary gasped. “What if it wasn’t someone following Luke. What if someone was following Mom?”

Maryse raised a brow.

“Max. What if Max followed from the Institute?”

Maryse’s jaw clenched. “He wouldn’t.”

“This high,” Wilhiem put his hand out at the appropriate height. “Brown hair. Dark clothes. I didn’t get a good look.”

Clary looked up at Maryse. “He wouldn’t,” she said again, like she was trying to convince herself. She bit her bottom lip. The rest of the group came over, and she quickly relayed the story of the child coming through the portal unsupervised.

“You think it’s Max?” the blonde man asked.

“It sounds like Max,” Alec muttered.

“I’ll contact the Institute,” Maryse said. “The rest of you go to the Gard and find that Orb.”

“If it’s even there,” Clary muttered.

“If it is, I should be able to render it useless,” Wilhiem said to everyone’s apparent shock.

“Really?” Magnus asked.

“Niamh built it,” Wilhiem said. “I know how to render her creations useless.”

“You stay with the group then,” Magnus said, before glancing at Maryse. “I’ll go with you.”

Maryse raised a brow. “That isn’t necessary.”

“If we find Max, do you want to keep him here, or wouldn’t you prefer a Warlock capable of portaling him somewhere safe?” Magnus asked, wiggling his blue flaming fingers.

“He’s right,” Alec said, sounding worried. “Take Magnus with you.” He quickly grabbed his boyfriend’s hand and squeezed. “We’ll take the Gard.”

“No time for arguing,” Áine said when it looked like it might be debated further. “Demons!”

The group parted, Maryse and Magnus headed for the nearest house, while the rest of them ran headfirst into battle.


	29. Chapter 29

Watching Maryse fight gave Magnus an understanding of where Isabelle got her deadly grace from, the gene had clearly skipped Alec, who once nearly fell down a flight of stairs after a kiss. She twirled the long pole of the naginata, and sliced through the nearest demon, shoving one back with the blunt end, only to twist, and slam the blade through what served as its grotesque jaw.

She pulled her weapon from the twisting corpse, and looked around once again to regain he bearings. “This way,” she said, not looking back, simply expecting him to follow.

While he had his personal animosities toward the woman, he didn’t fault her in that moment. The cool, level head, the strength, and tactics, a soldier- and he finally saw Alec in his mother. Not just the physical similarities he’d always noticed, but the way they marched forward into danger without second thought, bound to duty, and honour.

The entered the first house they found that wasn’t burning, or under siege. The home was a modest one. “Lovelaces,” she said brushing some cobwebs away. “They deserted the Clave to live as Mundanes a couple generations back.”

Magnus shut the door, and locked it, trying not to draw more attention to the little house. There were sheets over the furniture, a grandfather clock exempted; it still ticked on as if there were still occupants in the house. Fingers lit with magic, and Maryse with a witchstone in hand, they made their way down the dark hallway, until they located an office.

Maryse pulled the sheet from the desk. He kept his eyes out the window, the battle raged on around them.

The loud creaking and then slamming of the door caught their attention, and his eyes went right to Maryse. “Didn’t you lock it?” she whispered.

He shot her a bland gaze. “Shadowhunters have an unlocking rune.”

It was her turn to glare.

A figure startled in the doorway, and the soft blue glow around Magnus’s fingertips truly ignited and turned bold red.

“You son of a bitch,” Maryse snarled with more emotion and anger behind her voice than he’d ever heard. Her weapon in hand as she walked around the desk.

The man froze under their collective glare. Perhaps he’d expected to be safe here, or at least alone. However, Victor Aldertree had chosen the wrong house to take refuge in. He turned to make a run for it, however Magnus’s magic created a reverse ward- instead of keeping something out, he kept the man in.

“You’re not leaving,” Magnus said darkly, his head cocking to the side, his glamour falling. Golden eyes blazed with both his magic and his anger.

Maryse cracked her neck to one side, then the other. “You’re a dead man.” And with that, she struck out, he dodged left, arching his back to avoid the blade.

His hands captured the pole and twisted. He didn’t get possession but it got the pointy end away from his face. The two held the weapon, but that didn’t end the fight. Aldertree kicked toward Maryse’s shin, she had to take a step to the side to avoid it and it knocked her off balance. Her back hit the wall hard and he pressed the pole nearly to her throat before Magnus reached out with his magic pulsing red, and angry; he yanked the man back, and off his feet.

Unfortunately, Aldertree had had a better grip on the weapon, and now had it in hand. The man moved with the swiftness of his runes, and got back to his feet while Maryse got into a hand-to-hand stance.

“I’m not dying here,” Aldertree said.

“You hurt _my son_.” Maryse’s eyes were full of the dark promise of death.

“Your son is an abomina-“ he didn’t manage to get the word out before she screamed wordlessly as she lunged at him. The weapon in his hand useless against her wrath. With her hold on the pole, she slammed her boot into his gut with enough force to knock him into the bookshelf.

When he tried to get back up he found himself imprisoned by Magnus’s red-tinged magic, that slowly pressed, pressure increasing, shoving the air from the man’s lungs as Magnus crouched down to be eye-level with him. “You have no right to speak of my Alexander like that.” He watched with a sick sense of glee as the man struggled to breathe. “You silenced him, and now I’ll silence you.”

Maryse’s blade lined up with the man’s throat, she glanced at Magnus, and he stood. The two of them towering over Aldertree. “Don’t release him, but let him speak-“

“But Maryse-“

“I have a question,” she said with urgency, probably since the man was scratching at his neck like it could loosen the magical bindings.

He huffed out a breath, leaning back against the desk, but waved his hand.

Aldertree gasped for breath, and Maryse kept her blade rested against the man’s collarbone. “Why?”

“Why?”

“Why betray the Clave?” Maryse asked.

“Don’t act superior.” Aldertree glared. “You did it once yourself.”

“I lost my way, but I saw the light. I doubted Valentine. I learned to fear him. I had my little boy to think about. I repented for my sins.” Maryse shook her head. “Valentine is not a Shadowhunter. He is a monster and needs to be put down like one.”

“He will bring us greatness again,” Aldertree said. “He will cleanse the world with the Angel’s help.” He glared over at Magnus. “The Downworlders will all die, the demons will cease to be. The new wave of Shadowhunters will see to it.”

“With the Angel’s help,” Maryse repeated and Magnus saw the slight widening of Aldertree’s eyes. “That’s all I need to know.” She slammed the blade through the man’s throat, staring at him as gurgled on the blood that had flooded his mouth in his final seconds.

“Maryse?” Magnus let his magic over the man fade to nothing. He felt a little shaken about how deep his anger had bled into his magic.

“With the Angel’s help,” she repeated once again.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She looked at him with horror in her eyes. “It means he has all the Mortal Instruments; the Cup, the Sword, and the Mirror. He’s going to raise the Angel, Raziel.”

Magnus muttered a few curse words under his breath.

She went back to the desk grabbing paper, and a pen. “Mundanes have one thing right- phones.” Her scrawl was quick, and messy, and it pulled on his heart that it reminded him so much of Alec’s. The window gave a view of the battle, one that Alec still fought in. The rune caught the paper on fire and they waited with little patience for a response.

A minute stretched in silence.

A few curse words slipped after five minutes.

“She can’t find him,” Maryse said softly. “That’s why she hasn’t written back, Penelope’s still searching.”

“Would Max really be so careless…” his words trailed at the raised brows of Maryse.

“He’s as unpredictable as Jace, as brave as Isabelle, and as tenacious as Alec.” Maryse sighed. “If he thought he could help…”

He could see her mask slipping, and he put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure he’s fine.” He didn’t come off very convincing. He had a terrible feeling in his gut that she was right. This particular Lightwood may be small, but still a Lightwood.

She offered a small tilt of her lips that passed as a smile. She didn’t look convinced, but pleased by his attempt at comfort. “Thank you.”

He nodded and they waited another four minutes in tense silence until a flame appeared on the desk, leaving ashes that solidified into paper. Three words written with a quick, left-leaning hand.

_Max isn’t here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUUUUUUYS 2x18. One; I've been telling people we'd be hit with a Malec breakup before the end of season and I've never been so crushed at being right. Two; these writers are really dangling Max aren't they? First with the Seelie, then with Sebastian. Book readers be like; this is it, he's gonna die for reals. And the writers are all like; MWAHAHA maybe next week.   
> Three; who else isn't over the way Alec looked after Magnus went into that elevator? I'm still trying to scoop my heart off the floor.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I feel like this chapter is a mess, but my laptop is overheating and burning my wrists as I type, soooo, I'm not editing.

The group moved together, but were spread out enough to keep from hitting each other accidentally with their weapons. Jace and Alec were close together, and they moved with such synchronization it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. Despite how strong their parabatai bond had been before, it had increased tenfold. Jace could feel his parabatai rune, warm and alive on his hip. He stepped back thoughtlessly, and ducked before he even knew why, but an arrow flew overhead, and destroyed the demon that had been gaining on him.

He risked a glance over at Alec, his eyes were focussed, but burning gold in a way Clary told him that his eyes looked when he used his angelic gifts. He risked a look at his parabatai rune, lifting his shirt, he found it glowing gold; he knew if he were to check Alec’s, it would look the same.

 _‘Duck!’_ Alec’s thought, a clear demand, answered instantly by Jace dropping low. Alec’s blade swiped over his head, and took out a small demon.

‘ _Behind you-‘_ Jace’s thought was incomplete, but it were as if Alec already knew what he was thinking. Maybe he did, Jace figured when Alec pulled down his bow, notched an arrow, pivoted and aimed high, letting the arrow fly the moment he had the string pulled all the way. The runed arrow decimated the winged demon. “We’re going to need to talk about this at some point,” Jace said, with a healthy dose of awe and worry.

“Not now,” Alec said- and this time Jace felt it, the full slam of Alec’s consciousness, an understanding of what stood behind him, and Jace followed through with movements he hadn’t even though of. He shifted left to miss the talons, pivoted, and rammed his blade through the chest of the large demon. It didn’t kill it, too large, and too powerful to be taken down so easily. However, the move he’d just employed was Alec through and through, the easy, most direct route. Alec wasn’t like Isabelle, he didn’t have a flair for battle. With a sword, Alec tended to rely more on brute strength, no fancy footwork, just straight in, and hit the thing until it dies.

Instead of trying to understand this new bond, he blindly trusted it, trusted in Alec. His movements were his own again, Alec still there, solid and true in the back of his mind, but no longer psychically pushing on him.

It took a while, but they managed to fight their way to the Gard where they found Aline over a body, her stele a glow.

“Aline?” Isabelle came in close.

“We’re okay,” Aline said. “You know Mark?”

The young man smiled at the group, wincing as the cut on his shoulder started to heal up with the help of the Iratze that Aline had drawn. “Mark Blackthorn.” He pushed himself off the ground and gently brushed off Aline’s hands. “I’m okay, I’m good, really.” He picked his weapon back up, and held it tight. “It could have been worse.”

“What were you thinking,” Aline smacked him on the arm.

“Ow!” Mark pouted a little. “I had to try. He was getting away.”

Jace came in a little closer. “Who?”

“Valentine.” Mark sighed. “I tried to stop him, but... I kind of tripped when he swung at me, and hit my head off the pillar.”

“He probably thought he killed you, and didn’t have time to check,” Aline said. “You’re so lucky!”

“Don’t tell my sister about this,” Mark said to Aline. “She’ll literally never let me live down the time I faced Valentine and knocked myself out.”

“Which way did he go?” Jace asked, his words rushing out.

Mark pointed.

“That’s toward Lake Lyn,” Jace said.

“Clary!” Simon’s voice caught their attention, and they found the redhead swaying on her feet, her eyes rolled back in her head. “Clary!” Simon’s hands gripped her just above the elbows, his eyes wide and frantic. “Clary! Come on, say something!”

Her eyes rolled back and she leaned into Simon. “The Angels showed me something.”

“Now?” Alec pulled another arrow, as he continued to peg off demons keeping them from getting to close. The Gard, less defended then they had predicted. “Angels are trying to get you killed.”

“No. It’s important. It has to be,” Clary muttered. She grabbed a stone from the ground and etched the lines she’d saw on the stairs. “It’s all about balance. The vision is about balance. Angels and demons. Reflections. The Sword, the Cup, the Mirror. Balance.”

“Clary?” Simon crouched next to her. “Are you okay?”

“It’s about balance,” she continued muttering, dragging the stone hard against the stone stairs.

“Well, she’s lost it,” Alec said.

Isabelle swatted her brother, and he made pointing motions toward Clary as if to say, _‘here is the evidence.’_

Alec attention diverted when he saw his mother and Magnus fighting their way through the demons, and Circle members. Alec stepped away from his group, firing long shots that got shorter, keeping demons off them as they approached. “Max?”

“Is here,” Maryse confirmed.

“Damn it!”

A look passed between Maryse and Magnus- the later who shrugged. Maryse squared her shoulders. “Aldertree is dead.”

Alec expected to feel something upon hearing that. Considering what Aldertree had done, what he had put him through, what he’d put them all through, he expected to feel vindicated, or something, maybe sadness or anger just to remember what he’d done, but he didn’t. “Okay.” He said with a nod. “Mark saw Valentine, he went toward Lake Lyn.”

“The Mortal Mirror,” Clary said still in her trance-like state, dragging the stone.

“What are you talking about?” Simon asked.

“Lake Lyn. The reflections.”

Magnus raised a brow, and Alec let out a sigh and gave a shrug as an answer.

“Are you saying that Lake Lyn is the Mortal Mirror?” Áine asked Clary, her voice soft, as if she were afraid to spook the other woman.

“The angel rose out of the Lake with the Cup and the Sword,” Clary said.

“The three instruments were in the original story of Raziel,” Isabelle said softly, then cursed. “We’re all idiots. We’ve known this story since we were children, and we’ve never put it together.”

Maryse sighed. “How could anyone know that the Lake was the Mirror?”

Clary dropped the stone, and her fingers dragged over the marks she’d made. “What… what happened?”

“You drew that,” Jace said softly. “Those new runes, what do they do?”

Clary stared at it. “It’s just like the rune Ithuriel showed me before. I didn’t understand then, but I do now. It’s a rune. It’s just one… but… it goes on two bodies. It’s… Alliance. It’s the Alliance rune.”

“Um… okay?” Jace tilted his head slightly. “So it’s like a parabatai rune?”

“No.” Clary turned and stared at Alec and Magnus. “It’s for them.”

“How about no?” Alec said. “Magnus is a Warlock, he can’t take runes. It would kill him.”

“It won’t,” Clary insisted. “He’ll be fine because it’ll bind your angelic abilities to him. He’ll gain your skills in battle, and feel the effects of any rune you have active on your body, and you’ll have access to his magical abilities.”

Alec shook his head. “That isn’t possible.”

Clary put a hand on her hip. “You didn’t think a Portal Rune was possible either.”

“You were right one time-“

“And I’ll never let you hear the end of it,” she said smugly. “This can change things in our favour. The Angel sent this for a reason.”

Alec glanced around, there were less demons, but it felt oddly like a calm before a storm. He glanced over at Magnus who shrugged. “I trust Biscuit.” He then grabbed Alec’s hand and interlocked their fingers, his magic swirling around their hands. “But I understand if you can’t.”

Alec took a deep breath, and felt the warmth through his bond, and saw Magnus’s jaw drop. “Alexander…”

“Yeah, Jace and I are still figuring that out.” He raised his hand, and blindly caught the Stele Jace had thrown at him. He pulled Magnus over to where Clary stood, so they could both look down at the rune. _‘Keep me steady,’_ he thought, and felt the calm that came with Jace’s presence. He drew the lines on Magnus wrist, pausing only to make sure he was getting the design right. Finishing it off, it took on a grey tinge, but didn’t seem to be hurting Magnus. He passed the Stele.

“Ready?” Magnus asked, his fingers gripping the Stele, and keeping it poised over Alec’s wrist.

He didn’t even feel the fear, just Jace’s utter confidence that this would work. In not time, Magnus finished the rune, and at once it settled into both of their skins turning black.

“I feel like I could run a marathon,” Magnus looked around and grimaced. “Everything is so… sharp, and in focus.”

“Runes,” Alec said vaguely, not bothering to name them. He couldn’t. Not with his mind and body feeling ready to explode. The familiar blue flames licked over Alec’s fingers. “It’s… not going to hurt me, right? Like, I can’t just burn myself alive… right?”

“My magic would never hurt you, but focus on anything you want dead, and it’ll respond, I promise you,” Magnus said. “Just don’t try conjuring or anything, that takes a lot of studying.”

“Got it.”

“Does this work for all Shadowhunters and Downworlders?” Áine asked.

“Yes,” Clary nodded.

“Do you hear that?” Wilhiem asked suddenly, reminding the group the warlock was still there with them.

“Hear what?” Isabelle asked.

“Metal on metal,” Raphael said. “Clicking.”

“It’s irritating,” Simon said.

“It’s a countdown,” Wilhiem said, eyes wide with horror. “It’s the Orb!”

“Damn it! Where is it!” Alec shifted.

“We still have to find Valentine!” Jace said. “He… he has the mortal instruments, he was going to Lake Lyn.”

“My Queen,” Niv’s voice tense and angry drew their attention, and the man simply pointed at the droves of demons.

Áine blew a loose strand of hair from her face. “It’s going to be a long night.”

“Simon!” Clary grabbed her stele and looked at him, he nodded and she swiftly drew the rune. “We need to pair up,” she shouted at the rest of them, passing the stele to Simon who drew the matching rune on her wrist.

Isabelle paired off with Raphael. Maryse with Áine- despite Niv’s complaints, and refusal to participate himself. Wilhiem refused as well, leaving Jace partnerless.

Maryse, Áine, and Niv took up space as the front line fighters. “Find the orb!” Áine demanded. “We’re all dead if you don’t.”

Isabelle, Raphael, Simon, and Magnus got right to work. Clary looked at Jace in the same manner that Alec did. “You’re about to do something stupid,” Alec accused, standing between Jace and Clary. “I don’t need our overactive bond to tell me that.”

Jace’s hands clenched.

“I’m not telling you to stop,” Alec said softly. “Valentine has to be stopped. We have to find the Orb. You have to go and I have to stay.”

Jace held out his hand, and Alec’s tinged with magic he couldn’t quite keep contained clasped it. “I’ll see you when it’s over.”

“You owe me a drink after this mess,” Alec said with a smile.

Jace let out a surprised laugh. “Yeah, okay, drinks.”

Alec patted Clary’s shoulder before he rejoined Magnus on the search in the Gard for the Orb.

“You okay?” Clary asked Jace.

“I will be.” Jace said. “This will all be over soon. One way or the other.” He looked back at his family, at the only mother he’d ever known, his sister, his brother.

“What about Max?” Clary asked softly.

“He’ll be fine,” Jace said firmly as they took off running. “Shadowhunters, we don’t say goodbye before battle. We have to believe it’s a certainty we’ll be home.”

Clary understood then. He had to say that Max would be fine, he had to believe it, because he could never do what needed to be done if he didn’t. “We’ll find him after.”


	31. Chapter 31

Max wanted nothing more than to help his siblings, his family, to bring honour to the Lightwood names. When he heard about everything, he grabbed a dagger from Jace’s room (he always had a few tucked away- one in the closet, one in the bedside drawer,) he’d tucked himself into the back of the car while Jocelyn was on the phone. He followed the werewolves through the portal. He’d ended up in Idris in the middle of battle, and separated before the werewolves, or Jocelyn could notice him.

Despite not having runes yet, the dagger still light, reacting to his angelic blood. With his small stature, he wasn’t as noticeable, not to mention the Shadowhunters were throwing themselves into battle.

“Kid!” someone shouted. “Get to the Gard!”

Of course, when under attack, those who couldn’t fight (children, the rare elderly of their kind) would go to the Gard for protection.

Someone shoved him in the direction of the Gard.

A few blocked demons from getting to him, and started shouting. Fear curdled in his stomach. He shouldn’t be here. He wanted to fight, but there were so many demons, so many of those horrible circle runes on the side of Shadowhunter necks. Blood ran through the dips in the cobblestone, the blood of Shadowhunters.

“What the-“ A strong hand grabbed his shoulder, then his chin, forcing him to look up at the woman.

“Helen!”

“Max! What are you doing here?” She looked around wildly, keeping her blade at the ready. “We need to get you to the Gard!”

He found himself tripping over his own feet as she dragged toward the back entrance of the Gard. “Stop. I want to help!”

“You’re only going to get yourself killed, or someone else killed while trying to protect you,” she snapped. “You’re a child. You don’t even have runes yet!” She yanked on the door only to find it locked. She pounded on the wood frame. “There is a Shadowhunter child that needs safety!”

No one opened the door.

“I want to find my siblings, or my parents,” Max said. “I need to help them fight.”

“Listen, you could very well be one of my siblings, and I hope the older Lightwoods would do this for one of them.” She took a brick and knocked out a window, dragging it around the edges to remove as much glass as she could. She then stripped off her leather jacket and put it over the sill, just in case. Her fingers interlaced and she crouched a little. “Foot in, and you go over the ledge.”

“No. I want to help.”

“You’re a liability,” she shouted. “Now!” Max swallowed hard, but did as she said, he planted his feet on her interlaced hands, and she boosted him through the window of the Gard. He glared at her from inside as she yanked her jacket back down and shook out a few access shards of glass that it had protected him from before putting it on. “Stay in there. Promise me.”

“I promise,” he muttered.

“On the Angel,” she demanded, her eyes narrowing.

“I promise, on the Angel, I’ll stay inside the Gard. No matter what.” He saw movement and pointed.

Helen didn’t have any more time for argument and launched herself back into battle.

Max turned and looked around. The office looked incredibly neat, and he saw a picture on the desk of Aline along with Consul Jia Penhallow. He walked out of the office, figuring he should find where the young, the old, and the wounded were. Since he’d promised to stay inside the Gard, perhaps he could at least be of aid there. Besides, it would help if he could see that none of his family were in the Infirmary. Then, perhaps, he could finally convince himself the were okay.

The Gard had a terrible layout due to the additions upon additions being made to the original structure over the centuries. It lead it to be quite the maze and he got all kinds of lost inside. He heard some kind of clicking, and followed it. It lead down into the cellars where the noise got louder and louder.

Footsteps-

_Pain._

_Bre-_

::

Maryse found herself taking steps back toward the Gard. The onslaught of one of Valentine’s men was far more skilled than those she’d fought before. Her runes surged with energy, and strength hummed through her muscles as she blocked. Usually, she fought with more brute force, but Áine’s Seelie energy also hummed through her from the Alliance Rune. It felt odd, a little electric, and kind of made her feel like her hair would be standing on end. She swiftly dodged with more grace and flexibility than normal.

A groan caught her attention. “Niv!” Áine shouted, her eyes widening at the sight of her injured friend.

“I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth, his sword slashing, and stabbing at his enemy. “Focus, Áine!”

Áine pivoted, her flesh missed by the claws of a demon, however it tore through the ends of her jacket. “Damn you to Edom!” she shouted at it before launching into a fury of attacks, chaotic magic crackling in golden sparks around her.

Maryse could feel her strength, and agility runes being syphoned by the new Seelie Queen. More than anything, she wanted to be looking for her youngest son. Not that she didn’t worry about her other children while in battle, but they were adults now. They were Shadowhunters, trained and true. _Max_. Max was still so small, on the cusp of his first rune, but not yet. He needed to be protected.

Duty kept her firm. She couldn’t go running around looking for Max. She wouldn’t even know where to start. She stood her ground, it was the only thing she could do- protect the Gard- and pray to the Angel to keep her baby safe.

::

Jocelyn and the werewolves ended up at the edges of Alicante. The fight kept them pushed back, there were so many demons at this point making their way into the city. Luke’s fur had a bloody patch, but he shook his head, motioning to her that he could still fight.

She didn’t like it.

She didn’t like any of this, but had little choice but to keep fighting. To keep holding the line. To hope her daughter was safe inside.

::

“It’s this way,” Raphael said.

Simon nodded. “I hear it too. We’re getting closer.”

Alec notched an arrow, but kept it pointed toward the ground as they continued moving.

Magnus watched as they all moved in formation, as though they had been fighting like this, together, for centuries. They paused every now and then to listen, the sound getting louder.

“Cellars.” Alec said, pointing down the staircase.

Their formation shifted, Isabelle with her whip in one hand and sword in the other going down first, Alec moved down a few steps above her, and as close to the wall as he could, trying to see around the corner. Magnus stuck as close to his boyfriend as he could, Raphael, Wilhiem, and Simon following.

A ball of magic threw Isabelle to the ground and Alec ran down the rest of the stairs drawing his bow back but the shot went wide as magic flew at him. The Alliance rune flared and the magic he drew from Magnus deflected the blow. “You son of a bitch!” Alec snarled, and Magnus froze at the bottom stair.

It was the warlock who had syphoned his magic off.

“You’re too late,” he said.

Magnus shook his head. “We will shut down the bomb.” The man just smiled, and Magnus saw red. He threw magic and the battle immediately got heated, the magic giving off the scent of burnt sugar as they lobbed it at each other. He called upon the energy, his magic, and the power felt amplified by Alec’s runes. He knocked the warlock back into the wall and held him there.

An arrow, tinged in red magic slammed through the Warlocks heart, and pinned him to the wall. Magnus looked over his shoulder to see Alec’s enraged face, but also the red magic swirling around his hands.

“Alec, you need to calm down,” Magnus said softly, trying not to spook him, all while looking over at Isabelle, she was leaning on Simon, Raphael fussing over her but she appeared fine.

“He hurt you,” Alec snarled.

“I know. I know, but now he’s gone,” he reached out and grabbed Alec’s hand, his own blue magic mixing with the red tinged magic Alec couldn’t help but give off. “I’m okay, Darling, I’m okay.”

Slowly, the red turned blue, and then dissipated. Alec’s hand cupped Magnus’s jaw. He took a deep breath, and let his hand fall. “We have to find the Orb.” He glanced over his shoulder and raised a brow.

“I’m good,” Isabelle said, tucking her Stele back into her pocket.

Alec looked over Magnus one more time before he took over the lead as they walked through the cellars.


	32. Chapter 32

Magnus paused to stare down at the warlock who had syphoned his magical energy to power the Orb. The arrow that had pierced his heart also left a scorch mark from the magical flames the arrow had carried. The quick death was more merciful than he would have liked, however they had little time. The tick-click sound of the timer on the Orb put a chill into his soul. If it went off, who knew how many it would kill- and they would all die because of him, for it was his magic that powered it.

“You’re sure you can shut it down?” Magnus asked as he fell into step with Wilhiem.

“Yes,” the man replied. “I’m more worried about it going off before we get to it.”

“How long of a timer does it have?”

Wilhiem frowned, and then shrugged.

“Lovely,” Magnus muttered bitterly.

The Shadowhunters were in the lead, and he watched Alec, the way he moved, how he’d taken up the front of the formation, but still left Isabelle open to attack and defend. He paused, and made a few quick hand movements that Magnus didn’t understand, but Isabelle appeared to.

She nodded and took up one side of the door, while Alec took up the other. He activated a rune on his body and suddenly Magnus could hear better, the tick-click sound that much louder. Alec nodded, and pointed at the door, now sure that was where he was where the sound came from.

Alec moved back to stand across from the door, his bow raised and an arrow ready to be pulled. Isabelle had her hand on the door, took a deep breath, and at Alec’s nod, she opened it, rolling in low, her whip dragging on the floor following her, and Alec took three steps into the room.

The scream Isabelle released had Magnus’s heart stutter. He rushed into the room only to freeze in the doorway. The scene before him, pure horror.

“No,” Alec whispered, his bow at his side, loose in his grasp, the arrow tumbling to the ground.

Isabelle rocked, the body far too small in her arms, the blood slicking her hands and already soaking the floor.

Alec took a step forward, the bow dropping, another step and another, unsteady- nothing like his usual long, confident strides. He dropped to his knees next to her, and beside the other body on the floor, a cloaked hood hiding the face, but the blood surrounding the body belaying that this person had met the same fate as young Max Lightwood.

Magnus rushed forward, hoping, praying that he might be able to do something, but as he knelt down and reached out, Alec took his hand, and shook his head. “He’s gone.”

The voice was utterly broken, and he half expected Alec to beg him to help, not tell him it was too late. However, the way in which the boys throat had been slit… no, there was nothing Magnus could do.

“She’s alive,” Raphael said, kneeling by the other body.

Wilhiem was ignoring all of them, by the Orb, his magic swirling around it.

“Cara?” Raphael said when he pushed the hood back from her face. “Who?”

“Valentine’s son,” she spoke, blood speckling around her lips. “The blonde boy. He’s going to the lake. He’s so proud of what he’s done.” Her breath stuttered. Magnus crawled over, his magic reaching for the little life she had left. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I knew it would end like this. Áine…” she looked up at Raphael. “Take care of her.”

“What?” Raphael shook his head. “You’ll be fine- Magnus?”

“My magic isn’t responding,” Magnus said sadly. “He must have used something on the blade. If I had time… more time.”

Cara’s breath stopped. Raphael shook the woman who stared blankly at the ground. “Cara?” He frowned, and gently shut her eyes.

“Magnus,” Wilheim shouted. “I need more magic. Help me disarm the Orb!”

Magnus’s stomach clenched, and he looked back over his shoulder. Isabelle’s body wracked with sobs, holding her little brother tight. Alec nowhere in sight. “Alec,” he whispered.

Simon finally peeled his eyes off Isabelle. “I’ll find him.”

Magnus wanted to go after Alec himself, but knowing his magic could be just moments away from killing them all, he stood. “Be careful,” he warned.

Simon nodded, he paused long enough to give Isabelle’s shoulder a squeeze, and then he was gone with his supernatural speed.

By the sound of Isabelle’s heart wrenching cries, he and Wilhiem combined their magic.

::

Jace stopped suddenly, dropping to one knee.

“Jace?” Clary stopped a few steps ahead of him. “What is it?”

“Alec.”

“Is he-“

“Alive. It’s not that. It’s…” Jace struggled to identify what burned through the rune. “Rage? I don’t know, I’ve never felt Alec this angry about anything. It’s more than that-“

“But he’s okay.”

“He’s not hurt,” Jace agreed managing to get back to his feet, the bond still sizzling but no in danger of crippling him. “But something is happening.”

“They’ll have to handle it,” Clary said evenly. “We have to get to Lake Lyn. We have to stop Valentine before he can raise the Angel!”

“I know, but,” Jace looked over his shoulder. It had taken them a while to get out of Allicante. Too long, and now he was losing more time. Still, Alec had been his priority for so long, the man held part of his soul, they were brothers even if they didn’t share blood. He felt such a strong pull, he knew Alec needed him, whatever was happening; his parabatai shouldn’t be going through it alone.

“Come on,” Clary said.

In the quiet moment before they could start running again, they heard rustling through the trees behind them. They both pulled their blades and got into a ready stance.

Jonathan came running out of the trees only to pause when he saw them. His eyes flickered black and his lips curved into a smile. Speckles of blood covered him from head to toe. “Sister, dearest,” he said with a smile, then his eyes flickered back to the normal glamour.

“What have you done,” she hissed, staring in horror at all the blood.

“What needed to be done,” he said easily, shrugging his shoulders. “As it turned out, the Orb requires Seelie blood to set the timer. The warlock never specified the amount.” He smiled widely. “Best to error on the side of caution and use as much as possible, right?”

“You’re a monster,” Clary said, her voice soft, and Jace felt a wave of anger at how fearful she sounded.

“Go to the Lake, Clary,” Jace whispered. “We can’t waste more time.” Jonathan had already bested him in battle before. Even with his angelic blood. The best he could hope for was that he could stall Jonathan long enough that Clary could get to the lake- and with any luck, sneak up on Valentine so it wouldn’t have to go to a fight. When it came to strength or skill Valentine still had his entire life of experience while Clary had a few months under her belt.

Jace took a step forward as Clary took one back. “You’re going to pay for all you’ve done. For what you did to Alec-“

Jonathan laughed. “Alec- I bet what I’ve done to him today will really take the cake.”

Jace felt his stomach drop. He remembered the wave of rage that had came through the bond. “What did you do to him?”

“Not what I did to him, exactly.” Jonathan’s smile widened. “At least, not physically.”

He took a quick look back, thankful that Clary had gone. He lifted his blade as Jonathan started stalking around him. “What. Have. You. Done.”

Jonathan pinched his own shirt between his fingers and pulled it away from his body a little. The blood tried to continue to stick to his skin. “In fairness, if he hadn’t come down to the cellars as I was bleeding the Seelie, if he hadn’t tried to save her with that typical Lightwood tenacity he probably would have lived… at least until the Orb explodes-“

The picture came together, and Jace lost his breath. “Max.”

The rage he’d felt… it was weighted with grief. Jace took a deep breath, his runes flaring gold. He said nothing, simply launching himself into battle, swinging his blade with a gracelessness that gave away his shattered heart. Little Max, his baby brother, gone. Dead. Jonathan dodged everything easily, laughing as if he’d heard the best joke ever.

Jace screamed, his rage and grief ruling him. He dodged a few blows, and managed to finally get a cut to the side of Jonathan’s face. “I’ll kill you,” Jace snarled. “I will fucking kill you!”

He felt Alec, the closeness bringing a flare of power to the bond. So when another figure stepped out of the bushes, Jace wasn’t surprised, he didn’t turn toward the figure, he didn’t fear the fact that his back was currently in that direction. Alec’s runes were also lit with gold, the blade in his hand was red, and red magic swirled around his hands. Questions couldn’t even form in his mind, none of it mattered.

“Max,” was all Alec said, and it was all the confirmation that Jace needed.

The parabatai flew into battle. Jonathan, while swift, and a quick healer, he had a harder time keeping up with both of them. Their swords clashed. Punches, elbows, and kicks were all fair game. The fight less dignified than practiced in the training room. Jonathan landed a deep slash to Jace’s chest, and it distracted Alec long enough for the roundhouse kick to knock him over.

Jace took a second to catch his breath, trying to hold the skin together, blood spilling over his fingers.

Alec threw a blast of red magic at Jonathan, who laughed, as it dissipated when it hit his skin. “You know. I spent some time in Edom. Grew a kind of… immunity to magic from there. And your little boy-toy… his daddy is their fucking king.”

“You’re lying,” Alec said, pushing more energy into the magic, but once again, the red magic did no harm.

Jace didn’t like how close Jonathan was, slowly stalking toward Alec. He ignored the pain he felt and pulled out one of his throwing knives.

Jonathan shrugged. “What reason would I have to lie?”

A blur flew past, taking Jonathan to the ground. Jace had only a moment to realize it was Simon. And then he realized that Simon was bleeding. Heavily. Jonathan had raised his blade when Simon came running, the blade had sliced open Simon’s throat. Jonathan shoved Simon off of him, and got back to his feet.

Jace stared in horror as Simon’s hands tried to hold his throat together, as he made horrible gurgling noises, choking on his own blood, still trying to breathe even though he didn’t need it. Still, that kind of blood loss would still kill a vampire if given enough time.

His family, his friends were all dying because of this maniac. His parabatai could die. Clary could die. With a shout, he flew back into battle, Alec at his side once more, their minds one, a single purpose. Kill Jonathan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So.... I know you hate me, and I'm sorry.   
> But here is the thing- I never really intended on killing Max. Not when I started. I even remember assuring a few readers that 'no, I won't kill Max.' but there are half a dozen things I wanted to write that required Max to be dead. Specifically- if you read the books you know what since the story is told (mostly) from Clary's POV you don't really get much about the grieving process of the Lightwoods. Alec mostly seems exhausted, and even more withdrawn for a time, Isabelle locks herself in her room and only lets Simon in. You get more of Jace's grief than anyone. I guess I just wanted a little more of that hurt/comfort both from the siblings and then from their lovers. Also, I intend on bringing Max Lightwood-Bane in at some point, and while yes, I could have named him different, or had some other reason for the little guy to be named after Alec's brother, this just... works. 
> 
> So... I'm sorry. 
> 
> Angst and hurt and comfort on the way.


	33. Chapter 33

_Tick-click._

_Tick-click._

_Tick-click._

Magnus felt like throwing up. He didn’t know how long they had, how many more tick-clicks they could hear before it would be all over. The room, already a blood bath, would only be a footnote on the casualty list if they didn’t deactivate the magical bomb. He couldn’t do anything but allow Wilhiem to use his strength, Wilhiem knew how to deactivate the bomb, not Magnus, even if he could feel his own magic pulsing off the Orb with each terrifying tick-click.

The golden leaves of the Orb shifted, and clicked, turning into an entirely new pattern, magic seeping out like a fog. A cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck. His hand tightened around Wilhiem’s. “Is it supposed to do that?” he asked, his voice pitched with the panic he felt.

“Yes,” the word came out like a sigh of relief. Wilhiem untangled their fingers. “It’s disarmed.”

No elation, no cheers- the room remained heavy. Raphael had made Cara as presentable as possible, laying her on her back, crossing her arms, closing her eyes. The Seelie might have looked to be sleeping if not for all the blood in her long blonde curls, the speckles of it around her mouth, and the gaping, bleeding wounds.

With a heavy weight in his chest, Magnus forced himself to look at Isabelle. Her cries hadn’t let up in the slightest. Her grief cut him to the core. She rocked her baby brother in her arms, her face scrunched up with how tight she kept her eyes closed. Not that that stopped the tears. She choked on her own sobs, barely able to breathe through her loss.

Raphael stood. “Someone needs to inform Áine.”

“I need to find Alexander,” Magnus said. He crouched by Isabelle, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Isabelle, you need to get up.”

She turned to him, her eyes opened, and it felt like a punch to the gut. Her wide dark eyes were wells of sorrow.

“We need to find Jonathan,” he said. “And make him pay.”

“I-I-I can’t le-leave him.” Her arms tightened around her brother.

“I’ll watch over him,” Wilhiem said. “And the Seelie-“

“Cara,” Raphael snapped.

Wilhiem put his hands up defensively. “Cara. I’ll watch over them. I’ll put up wards, no one will come into this room.”

Slowly, Isabelle set her baby brother down. “He came through _your_ portal.”

“And I followed him. He came here of his own accord,” Wilhiem said. “I tried to find him.”

“He’s dead! And he’s dead because of you!”

Wilhiem flinched, his head bowed, and looked to be fighting tears.

“Max is… was a strong, tenacious, brave little Shadowhunter, just like all the other Lightwoods before him,” Magnus said softly. “It’s not Wilhiem’s fault that Max came through. I know your brother well enough to know that he’d have just wanted to protect his family.”

“And we didn’t keep him safe,” Isabelle said, tears falling down her cheeks, mascara smudged to the side of her nose. She sniffled, wiped her eyes angrily. “Let’s find the son of a bitch who did this.”

She picked up her whip and glared at Wilhiem. “Those wards better be strong, Warlock.”

Magnus followed her, trying to ignore the seething use of ‘warlock’ like the word tasted foul on her tongue. He could feel his magic moving, even though he wasn’t using it. “We need to hurry.” When Isabelle glanced at him, he broke out into a run. “Alec’s been using my magic.”

::

Jace threw himself into the battle pulling on the angelic energy, his runes were glowing a soft gold. He finally had Jonathan backing up, and looking far less confident than he had at the beginning. He needed more energy. All of his runes were already humming. He slashed his blade, and moved to the side knowing Alec’s moves before they happened. The red-glowing seraph blade took a weak and lazy stab that was so un-Alec that Jace faltered. He checked their bond, only to find that while the lights were on, no one was home.

Alec stood, and continued fighting, Jace found that side of the bond dark, little left but anger, and grief. Not only that, but Jace realized in his effort to gain energy- his own runes running low- he’d been pulling from Alec’s that were no longer glowing, but back to their usual black, a few even so drained they were nothing but white scars on his skin.

The distraction cost them. Jonathan’s blade ran through Alec’s sternum. Alec stared, shocked over Jonathan’s shoulder, his eyes looking right at Jace. Blood trickled from his mouth, the gold eyes flickered, turned to cats-eyes as red magic seeped out of the wound, then back to his usual blue when the sword was pulled out and Alec fell to the ground.

Pain unlike anything he’d ever experienced lanced through him, and he darted forward slamming his blade through Jonathan’s spine, twisting the blade. He pulled the blade out only to drive it back in, through the ribs and up through the heart.

He heard something in the bushes, pulled his blade out, Jonathan falling face first into the dirt and grass. He stared as Magnus and Isabelle rushed out. Isabelle screamed, her whip falling from her hands, fingers threading through her hair as she stared at the scene.

“Simon needs blood,” Magnus said, pushing Jace toward him. “I can help Alec, but I can’t give Simon blood.”

Jace felt something warm through the bond as Magnus knelt down beside Alec, and he hadn’t even started to heal him yet. It was as if, despite being unconscious, Alec could still feel Magnus, and was comforted by the presence. It might be explained by the Alliance rune if it weren’t a white scar like line on Alec’s wrist as it had been drained of it’s power.

He had to trust that Magnus could heal Alec, and he rushed over to Simon. He cut his own wrist, unsure if Simon could do it with how truly dead the vampire looked. “Drink,” he said, pressing his wrist to the unconscious vampire’s lips. “Come on, Simon.” He rubbed his wrist over Simon’s lips. “Come on, come on, drink! DRINK!” He squeezed his wrist with his other hand, letting the blood spill into Simon’s mouth. The vampire’s eyes opened. “Oh, thank the Angel. Drink.”

Simon stared up, looking frightened, he tried to speak, but he hadn’t healed, his throat just made an awful gurgling noise, blood spilling. “No, don’t speak. Drink. Heal.”

Isabelle crouched beside him, her own wrist bleeding, she cradled Simon, but roughly grabbed at his upper jaw. Fangs clicked out under the pressure. “Drink,” she commanded practically piercing her own wrist on the fangs. She looked ruined when she looked at Jace. “Alec needs you. I’ve got this.”

He watched as Simon’s eyes closed, his hands rising to grab Isabelle’s forearm, her head falling back at the sudden pull. He felt intrusive, and quickly ran across space that separated him from his parabatai.

“Hey,” he said, crouching by where Magnus supported him, sitting on the ground. While Alec sat upright, his eyes were dazed. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m… not?” Alec blinked. “Where is Clary?”

Jace felt sick. “Shit.”

“Go.” Alec said.

“But-”

“Go.”

Jace stared at his parabatai. “Alec-“

“I’m fine. We’ll talk later.” Alec appeared almost mechanical. “Go to Clary.”

Jace looked at Magnus who shrugged. “Too much magical energy? I don’t know, but he _can’t_ fight like this, Jace.”

Glancing down to where Magnus’s hand glowed blue while being pressed against Alec’s sternum told him that Magnus needed to stay right where he was, his energy keeping Alec alive, and healing. He looked over to where Simon was still drinking, Isabelle’s hand petting through his hair, saying something Jace couldn’t hear. Neither of them would be any help either. He had to get to Clary.

Jace moved to stand, only to have Alec’s hand move faster than expected, grabbing his shirt, and yanking him back down. “Don’t get yourself killed,” he said, voice firm but still lacking any real inflection. “I wouldn’t survive it.”

The words chilled Jace to the bone. “I’ll be careful.”

“Don’t be careful. Survive,” Alec ordered. His hand cupping Jace’s face with a gentleness that made Jace sigh, his parabatai was in there, and the action reassured him more than anything else could. “You’ve never been ‘careful’ a day in your life.” He ruffled Jace’s hair, then sagged into Magnus’s chest, as if he’d expelled all the energy he could manage. “I highly doubt you’ll start today.”

Jace stood, grabbed his blade, and with one last look back, he headed for Lake Lyn.


	34. Chapter 34

 Magnus kept pouring his magic into Alec, even after he wounds on his body had healed. His Shadowhunter’s energy was dangerously low. “Alexander, do you have your stele?”

“No stele, please, no,” he whispered, tucked away in Magnus’s arms.

“Okay, Darling.” He felt comforted by feeling Alec’s breaths, with his chest to Alec’s back, his hand on Alec’s sternum. “I’ve got you.”

“I know,” Alec brushed his nose against Magnus’s neck, breathing in deeply. “I know I’m safe with you.”

The absolute trust made Magnus’s heart clench. He kissed Alec’s forehead, one of the few parts of his boyfriend that wasn’t covered in blood or dirt from the battle. Alec let out a hard breath, tensing in his arms. “Alexander?”

Alec let out a pained grunt, his left foot kicked into the ground, the heel of the boot pushing up some grass at the root. Magnus didn’t know what was happening, but responded by trying to pour more magic into Alec’s body.

Alec squirmed slightly in the hold, like he was trying to escape from something. “Alec!” Magnus shouted, alarmed and afraid.

“Jace!” Alec cried, his body arching, shoulders pressed into Magnus’s chest, Alec’s head tilted over his shoulder. “JACE!”

Simon was over in a flash. “Alec?”

Isabelle staggered a little, falling to her knees beside them as Alec went limp in Magnus’s arms. She reached out, touching her brother’s shoulder.

He blinked, staring straight ahead at the tree line. “He’s dead,” he said, almost confused. Unsteady fingers reached down, and he pulled up the hem of his shirt displaying the raised scar with angry red blotches around it. The scar in the shape of his parabatai rune. “He’s dead.”

“No, no,” Isabelle’s tears started again, shaking her head. When Simon pulled Isabelle into an embrace, she melted into his arms, sobbing.

Magnus expected the same kind of reaction from Alec that they got from Isabelle. Or perhaps the pure rage that had come when they found Max’s little body. Something to show them what he’d just lost. Jace, his parabatai, a brother, a critical part of him. Instead, Alec’s stared expressionlessly. “Darling?”

Alec gently pushed Magnus’s hand off his chest, then shifted his weight, getting back to his feet. “If Clary isn’t already dead, she’s in danger.” He looked around, spotted his fallen blade, and went to retrieve it. The blade glowed its usual white. “We have to stop Valentine.” He looked back at them, Isabelle still sobbing into Simon’s shoulder, Magnus still sitting on the ground, his clothes covered in Alec’s blood. “Get up.”

“Alec-“ Simon silenced when Alec turned away from them. Instead, the young vampire turned his attention to Magnus. “What is wrong with him?”

Isabelle pulled away, quickly wiping her face. “Parabati own parts of each other’s soul.” She sniffled, before looking back for her whip. “For each pair, it’s different. But I imagine Jace owns a lot of Alec’s.”

“And when he died,” Simon whispered, leaving it open to be answered.

Isabelle’s face crumpled. “And when he died,” she choked on the word, and needed a few seconds to regain composure. “A large part of Alec died too.” She looked up, and cursed.

Magnus realized why.

Alec had left them behind.

They rushed Isabelle running for her whip, then in the direction of Lake Lyn. Simon kept pace with them, slowing his vampire speed to stick with the group. Magnus’s magical energy ran low, but it crackled within him with dangerous intent.

A light came blindingly through the trees, and Magnus paused in his step. “We’re too late. The Angel has risen.” He rushed through the trees, desperate to see Alexander. Valentine would wipe out everything with demon blood, himself included. He needed to see Alec. Needed to hold him one last time.

They caught up with Alec, who was leaning against a tree. Magnus let out a breath. “My Alexander,” he whispered reverently, taking in the sight of him.

“Mags?” he turned, reached out, and Magnus quickly took the young man’s hand. Alec took a deep breath, pulling Magnus into his chest, holding on with the kind of affection moments ago he hadn’t thought Alec capable of any longer. “Something happened.”

“What kind of something?” Isabelle asked. The light receding, but Magnus and Simon still standing.

“I don’t know,” Alec said, he looked at Magnus in his arms, eyes flicking to his lips, which he took the time to kiss, a quick hard press of lips, desperation in their parting breath. “We need to get to the lake.”

Magnus fell in line with rest, all walking in a line, together, a united front. And when they got to the shores, Magnus stopped. His mind had been in battle mode, but it wasn’t necessary. Valentine had bled out, and died. Clary and Jace were both standing, sharing breath, and quick presses of their lips.

“You died,” Alec said, and the two of them jumped.

“I got better,” Jace said with a smirk.

“My parabatai rune, it scarred.”

“Check it now.”

Alec’s eyes narrowed, but he pulled up his shirt, and sure enough, the rune was black. Alec’s eyes shut, a breath leaving him, his shoulders losing their tension.

Jace dashed forward a second before Alec started to fall. He caught up, held him up in his arms. “Alec, are you hurt?”

“Tired,” Alec slurred.

Jace motioned Simon closer. “Help me get him to the ground. Gently.”

They had Alec laid down, and Magnus crouched beside him. “What is it?”

Instead of answering right away, Jace turned over Alec’s arm. One rune still black, the others faded to white scar tissue. Jace then pulled up Alec’s shirt a little. The Parabatai, and Calm Anger runes were still black, but Stamina, Speed, and Agility runes had burned out.

“How could he burn through all those?” Isabelle said.

“What is happening?” Simon said.

“We can burn through a rune if we use it too much at once. We can reapply in a few days, when we’ve recovered a bit.” Isabelle stared down at Alec. “But I’ve never seen anyone burn through so many at once. They’re supposed to get us through long battles. Some last longer than others. Nourishment usually burns fast, supplying your body with energy. Things like Flexibility runes will last pretty much forever as they aren’t used as often, and once we rest up, they go back to full power.”

“I did this,” Jace whispered.

“You didn’t do anything,” Clary said, her hand on his shoulder in support.

“But I did. I didn’t realize… not until it was too late. I… when we connect through the Parabatai rune… I don’t know what happens exactly but, I needed more energy, I needed to be faster. I thought I was getting those things from my own runes, but… it wasn’t.” Jace shook his head. “I was taking Alec’s energy, his speed. It’s why his motions got so sloppy when we were fighting Jonathan. He almost died because of me.”

“Almost dead is not dead,” Alec whispered.

Jace pulled out his stele, Alec whimpered, and Magnus’s hand shot out, reaching across to grab Jace’s left hand. “Don’t.”

“Alec needs-“

“Rest. Not runes,” Magnus said, glancing down at his wide-eyed boyfriend.

“Just because Valentine and Jonathan are dead, doesn’t mean the battle is over,” Jace argued. “He needs energy to protect himself.”

“I’ll protect him,” Magnus said.

“I… I knew something was off about our bond,” Alec said softly. “I was using it, to be brave, to apply runes.”

“Alec-“

“I can’t feel you, Jace.” Alec blurted. “Our rune is there, but I can’t feel you. Are you blocking me?”

“No. I’m not.” Jace looked confused and checked his own skin, but sure enough his rune was there too. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I can’t feel you either.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t know.” Jace sighed, and looked to Alicante, smoke billowing from the city. “We need to get back.”

“I can portal him away from here,” Magnus said. “Back to the loft. He’ll be safe.”

“Do it,” Jace said, running his hand through Alec’s hair. “You’ll be safe, Parabatai.”

“No,” Alec pushed himself up to sitting. “No. You can’t… I can’t feel you, Jace! You can’t leave me-“

“Shhh,” Jace pulled his brother to his chest, murmuring words of comfort. “It’ll be okay. I’m okay. Valentine is dead. We have to get back. I’ll find our parents, okay.”

“Max,” Alec sobbed. “I have to go back for Max.”

“You’re in no condition to be going anywhere, Alexander,” Magnus said firmly.

“It’ll be okay, Alec,” Jace said softly, making a wiggly fingers motion at Magnus behind Alec’s back, pointing at the back of Alec’s head, then closing his eyes pretending to sleep.

Magnus sighed. He didn’t want to, but knew it would be the only way to keep Alec from crawling to Alicante if he had to. “Shh, Darling.” Magnus’s hands rested against either side of Alec’s head. The tips of his middle fingers touched Alec’s temples. “Sleep now, Alexander.” The blue magic crept over Alec’s skin, and the boy went limp in Jace’s arms.

Jace held him close a moment longer, reluctant to let go. “Take him to the loft,” he said, shifting Alec into Magnus’s arms. “Keep him safe. _Please_.”

“I will. Fire message me when you need out of here. Or to let me know how things are going. And that you’re all safe and-“

“We know,” Clary said softly.

With their weapons, Jace, Clary, Isabelle, and Simon walked back into the woods. Magnus summoned a portal before he carefully picked up Alec, and walked away from the horrors of the battle.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little spotty, not my favourite, but considering how many times my laptop decided, 'how about I shutdown now' we should all be shocked this it out at all. It does, however, set everything up for the next few chapters. We're in the homestretch (for this story, there are more in the series ;) )

Jace and Clary came through the portal. The sandalwood scent of Magnus’s loft gave a sense of comfort to Jace, as did the little touches around the room that spoke of Alec.

Magnus stood a little straighter, staring at the purple and gold hues swirling, then back to the two Shadowhunters. “The others?”

“They’re fine,” Jace said, rubbing a sore spot in his sword arm. “But they’re staying in Alicante.”

Magnus closed the portal. “You’re needed,” he said to Jace, beckoning him with a single finger over his shoulder as he walked toward the hall. “We can discuss everything in the bedroom.”

“You should at least buy me dinner first,” Jace said, but his usual snark held no bite, instead, just pure exhaustion.

“Coats and boots by the door,” Magnus said, his eyes narrowing. “Stop tracking more filth through my home.”

“Shoot, sorry,” Jace kicked off his boots, while Clary did the same. They both hung up their jackets that were probably unsalvageable.

Magnus pushed open the door to his bedroom, and sighed. “He’s been like this since we left Lake Lyn.” Jace paused beside Magnus in the doorway. Alec laid on the bed in clean pair of grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt. The blood, dirt, and sweat cleaned off his body. Obviously, it was Magnus’s doing. Alec’s lips moved, little muttered whispers. Tense even in magical sleep. “It’s your name he keeps calling for.”

“I can’t feel him,” Jace said, moving across the room.

“If you get into my bed with ichor on your jeans, I’ll turn you into a toad,” Magnus warned.

“For the love of-“ Jace muttered, yanking open the dresser on what he thought of as ‘Alec’s side of the room;’ an extra bow in the corner; one of Alec’s coats, and a spare thigh holster were over a decorative chair; a dresser with six drawers full of Alec’s clothes (obsessively neat- socks, boxers, t-shirts, long sleeved shirts, pants, and workout gear, in that order.) He pulled open the bottom drawer, and pulled out a pair of shorts, and a t-shirt. Without a care of having either Magnus or Clary see him, he stripped down to his boxers, and pulled on the t-shirt. “Better?”

“Marginally,” Magnus replied.

Jace took it as his blessing, and he approached the bed. The moment he carded his fingers through Alec’s hair, the muttering of his name ceased. “I’m here, Alec,” he said softly.

Alec’s hand fumbled in sleep, managing to grab Jace’s wrist on the third try. “Jace.”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

And with unexpected strength, Alec’s grip tightened as he twisted over, dragging Jace ungracefully into bed, and holding Jace’s arm to his chest. Jace chuckled, his forehead pressing between Alec’s shoulder blades. He could feel his parabatai become lax in his hold, even the hand gripping his wrist loosened.

He glanced over to see Clary drowning in a t-shirt of Alec’s, and tightening the drawstring on a pair of Magnus’s pajamas that were still too long for her short legs. Magnus had pulled over the chair with Alec’s things, and sat in it, propping his feet up on the bed. “And what is going on in Alicante?”

Clary rubbed her eyes. “It’s bad. They were still locating bodies while I was there.”

Jace rolled onto his back so he could see them, Alec shifted, still asleep moving until he had his head on Jace’s shoulder, arm and leg over him ensuring he couldn’t move again. “Death toll is unlike anything I’ve seen,” Jace admitted softly, his finger trailed up and down Alec’s spine from his hairline down to his shoulders, and back up again, in a way he knew comforted Alec.

“Max?”

Jace’s breath got caught in his throat for a moment, and Clary had to answer. “They’re preparing him for a funeral tomorrow. Maryse and Robert are with him.”

“Izzy?”

“She’s with Simon,” Clary said, surprise in her voice.

“The lady Áine?”

Jace blew out a breath. “There were butterflies everywhere when we went in the room to collect Max. She had Cora in her arms. Niv was with her, but even he kept his distance.”

“Raphael?”

“Was with her too,” Jace said softly. “There were some Seelies who still sided with the former queen, and killed Shadowhunters during the battle. There’s going to be a big Clave meeting once the funerals are done. Being the Warlock representative, you’ll likely hear more about it before I do.”

Magnus took a deep breath, and nodded. He glanced over at Clary. “Jocelyn and Luke?”

“Mom’s arm is broken, but Luke is fine. So is Maia. The pack took a few casualties,” she said, sounding slightly detached. Jace worried about her, but didn’t speak of it, not yet. She’d just brutally murdered her father to save him. She had ever right to be a little out of sorts.

“Valentine and Jonathan?”

“Their corpses are under watch. They’re set to be burned and dumped at a crossroads,” Jace said.

Magnus nodded. “Lydia, was she there?”

“Yeah, she’s a little banged up, but nothing an Iratze won’t fix,” Jace said. “Mark, and Aline are okay. Took us a while to find Helen, she’s on the critical list, but she should pull through. Their father though… didn’t make it. I heard they lost their mother a few years ago. Helen’s the eldest, she’ll end up with her younger siblings; the position of heading the Los Angeles Institute is now up for debate.”

“The casualty list was so long,” Clary said, sitting on the bed, snuggling up to Jace opposite to Alec. “It doesn’t seem real.”

“Jace?” Alec muttered.

“I’m here,” Jace replied.

Alec’s eyes opened a crack, blue eyes looking over at Clary, then flickering over to Magnus, then to Jace. “What the hell?” He pressed against Jace’s chest, trying to sit up, looking around. “Whe- why are we here?”

“Because you need sleep. We all need sleep,” Jace said, pressing two fingers into the inside of Alec’s elbow, which he was too weak to fight, and ended up falling back down. “So, sleep.”

“Max?” Alec said, sounding wounded.

Jace’s arm around his parabatai tightened. “Tomorrow, at dawn.” Alec squirmed, but was too weak to break the hold. “Just sleep, Alec.” As much as the older Shadowhunter fought it, he succumbed quickly to slumber. He sighed. “It’s going to be a long night.”

::

Raphael watched as Áine snarled at Niv when he came closer. The Seelie ignored his queen’s warning- perhaps because while he called her his queen, respected her as such, she was also just Áine to him. The butterflies were created of magic, flapping their little wings, glowing in oranges, golds, and greens. Occasionally they burst into sparks, but didn’t hurt, even when they were close enough that the little sparks hit him. It mostly tickled.

“We need to bring her home, Áine,” Niv said calmly, as if she weren’t bearing rows of sharp teeth, looking more vicious than any vampire.

At that, she looked wounded. “I wanted to bring her home whole.”

“She knew that this was coming.”

Those words had the butterflies halting, frozen, suspended in mid-flight. Her eyes became a deeper green, then gold, and that gold spread until it spilled like smoke from her eyes. She shot the eerie glare in Niv’s direction.

“She had a premonition-“

“It’s why she said goodbye to you earlier. You two so rarely embrace. She was saying goodbye.”

“Yes.”

“She knew. She should have told me-“

“You would have tried to save her-“

“Of course I would have,” Áine snapped. The butterflies bursting sending white and gold sparks everywhere.

“She saw her death, and you as Queen. You cannot have one without the other.”

“I would have gladly sacrificed the crown for her.”

“I know. So did she,” Niv said in his pure state of calm. “This is the path she chose, the one she thought was right.”

“You let her do this.”

“This was her choice,” Niv replied. “Who was I to decide for her?”

They remained crouched in silence. The gold retreated from Áine’s eyes. “Take her home, Niv.”

He nodded, carefully picking Cara’s body, he gave a polite nod in Raphael’s direction, then left the room.

Áine stood, her battle armour coated in blood and ichor. She looked at Raphael. Neither of them said anything. What could he say to heal her heart after losing a love of centuries? There were no platitudes that could fix what had been broken. She turned, and left. Raphael was stuck in the room, struggling to understand the chasm left in his chest.


	36. Chapter 36

With control of Alicante fully returned to the Shadowhunters, and the Clave still trying to weed out any of those with Circle ties, Downworlders were sent back through a portal in the Gard. No Downworlder would be permitted back to Idris until the funerals and clean up were complete.

“It’s bullshit,” Alec cursed, fixing the white collar in the mirror.

“It’s okay, Alec,” Magnus replied soothingly.

Alec straightened out, looking himself over in the full-length mirror. The white suit was impeccable, there were runes of mourning stitched in red around the cuffs. Behind him stood Magnus. His boyfriend. His anchor that kept him from completely losing it. Hair in disarray from sleep, makeup clear from his face, still wearing silk pajamas with a fancy design on them. His boyfriend who, due to the Clave, wouldn’t be able to stand beside him at the funeral for his little brother. “It’s not okay,” he choked out, and in a moment, Magnus had come up behind him, wrapped him up in his strong arms. “It’s not okay.”

“I know, and you know I wish I could be there for you, right?” Magnus said, turning him gently, adjusting his tie.

Alec just nodded, his hands finding their way to Magnus’s waist.  

Magnus smoothed his hand down the tie, and fixed it with a little clip. “Everything is on a swords edge right now, I can’t risk angering the Clave.”

Alec took a deep breath, and nodded. “I wouldn’t ask you to.” Ring clad fingers threaded through his hair, and he leaned into the touch. “I don’t know if I’ll be back tonight,” he admitted softly. “Depends-“

“On your family, I know. If they need you, you’ll stay. It’s the kind of man you are, Alexander, and I don’t fault you for it.” His hands fidgeted with the collar, despite it being perfectly fine. His fingers smoothed over the skin of his neck, gently holding him in place. “But know that if you need me, at any time, send me a fire-message and I’ll have a portal for you in no time.”

There were three gentle taps on the door. “Alec,” Jace called through the door, “it’s time to go.”

Tears were already welling in Alec’s eyes, but he took a deep breath, and stood a little straighter. Magnus could see the mask of a soldier coming into place. “Don’t forget, Alec, you lost someone too,” he said softly. “While you’re always the shoulder for someone else, do not ignore your own grief in favour of soothing theirs.”

The mask cracked a little, air rushing from his lungs. “I love you,” Alec whispered, cutting off any reply with a quick kiss. “I’ll see you soon.”

Magnus followed them to the living room. Alec and Jace stood side-by-side in similar styled suits, the runes of mourning sewn in. Clary however wore battle gear, since it had been decided by Maryse and Robert that something small, for family only, would be best. He created a portal for them, and Alec walked through first, followed by Clary, and Jace stayed a moment longer, turning to look back at Magnus, although, he didn’t seem to be able to find the right words, so instead he left with a little nod that Magnus took as thanks. With the Shadowhunters gone, he closed the portal, and for the first time in a long time, he stood in his loft completely alone.

:::

Aline found Mark sitting on a set of charred stairs. “How’s Helen?”

“She’s doing better,” Mark said. “The Silent Brother who helped her said she’d be okay in a few days.”

She’d seen the list of the dead- the current one, still being tallied. She’d seen the name Blackthorn on there and her lungs had seized. She’d felt guilty for the immediate relief that followed when it wasn’t Helen’s name. “I… I heard about your dad.”

“Institutes from all over sent their best fighters,” Mark said, sounding a little distant. Shock, maybe. “Los Angeles sent over twenty, and Dad would never make his people fight a battle he wouldn’t fight himself.” He ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath, then another. “Helen’ll get custody of our younger siblings, but they don’t know yet. Julian is watching over them for now. I told him Helen got hurt, and that we had to stay another day or so. He said he can manage. He has help at the Institute anyway. I couldn’t tell him, not about Dad, not through fire-message.”

Slowly, she sat down beside him, not sure if the wooden steps could manage their combined weight. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

He nodded, and remained silent a moment, clearly trying to pull himself together. “Do… do you want to see her?”

“I’d like that,” she replied softly. She followed as he led her silently to the Gard, a section of it being used for medical purposes. He paused at the foot of the cot that Helen laid on. She’d been stripped of her gear, a blanket covered from her waist down. Her jacket gone. The t-shirt she’d been put in was two sizes too big, and obviously not one from the fighting. The grime had been washed from her skin, she almost looked as though she were just sleeping.

One eye cracked open, then the other. They shifted from Mark, to Aline. Usually when that happened, Aline received a smile that warmed her heart. Instead, Helen just stared for a long moment before struggling to sit up.

Mark rushed over and pressed his sister’s shoulders back down. “Don’t move, you’ll re-open your wounds and the Silent Brothers had a hell of a time closing them.”

“I need to get back to LA. The kids-“

“Will manage-“

“They’ll hear, Mark. They’ll hear about it from someone else, and they shouldn’t.”

He sighed. “I’ll go back if it’ll make you feel better, but you can’t move.”

“Did you see the casualty list?” she asked, tears welling in her eyes.

“How did you see it?” he asked, a little growl in his voice.

She waved off the question. “John and Cordelia were on it, Mark.” Her brother reeled back in shock. “Emma’s parents.”

“Who’s Emma?” Aline nervously asked.

“Jules’s best friend,” Helen said. “They’re the only family she has. She’s the last of the Carstairs now.”

Mark put his face in his hands. “What do you want me to do, Helen? I’ll go back.”

“Got your Stele?”

“Helen?”

Aline just held out her Stele, and Helen took it with a grateful nod. Helen quickly scrawled another Iratze, then Fortitude, and Strength. She took a deep breath, and sat up.

Mark groaned. “You shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I’ll be fine, but I need to get home,” she insisted, pushing herself out of bed, only to find herself in just the oversized t-shirt, barely covering her bottom, and underwear. “But first, pants.”

::

Alec reached out as his parents went to light the pyre. He grabbed Jace’s hand on his right, Isabelle on his left, and held tight. Isabelle turned, tucking herself against his chest, sobbing openly against him. Alec could feel Jace again, barely, their bond still as weak as Alec felt- especially since his fear of his Stele kept him from reactivating his runes, and with the parabatai bond so weak, he couldn’t pull bravery from Jace. He couldn’t tell how Jace felt, and it was disorienting, blinding in a way most people couldn’t understand.

Jace looked over at him, like he was trying to figure it all out too. They were blind to each other’s grief, and incapable of sending any kind of comfort through the bond. Instead, Jace squeezed his hand tighter, the only thing they could do was physically hold on to one another.

The pyre caught, and Alec nearly choked at the thought of that white bundle (far too small to be a body, too small, too young, _no, no, no_ ,) contained his baby brother. The little brother he’d felt kick in his mother’s womb, the brother he’d held in his arms and sworn to protect, the brother whom he walked slowly for, letting Max hold his fingers while he wobbled unsteadily. Books they read, meals they’d shared, training, laughter, and the assumption that there would be more time. More time to get to know the older Max, for Max to know Alec.

“Breathe, Alec,” Jace whispered.

But he couldn’t. His baby brother was dead. And he finally choked out that breath, held his sister tighter to his chest, and pulled Jace in close too. They were his siblings. The only ones left, and he needed to keep them close.

He felt Jace’s tears, the dam finally breaking, the little shakes of his shoulders. If Jace was tremors, than Isabelle was an earthquake. At that point, Alec didn’t fair much better. The fire caught the silk wrappings, and he wasn’t sure anymore- was he holding them up, or were they keeping him standing?

::

A few hours after the funeral, Jace found Clary with Jocelyn. “Hey,” Clary said, standing when she saw him, pulling him into her arms. He felt exhausted, and wanted desperately to sleep for the next week- maybe two. “You holding up okay?”

“I guess,” he replied, pulling back. “You alright, Jocelyn?”

“Healing,” she replied, her arm in a cast. With her angel blood, and an iratze, it would still take a few days to heal the broken bone. “Are you coming with me, Clary?”

The redheaded girl looked at her mother, then to Jace, then back to her mom. “No. I think I’m needed here right now. I’ll come visit you and Luke soon.”

Jocelyn looked disappointed, but nodded. They shared a long hug, swaying a little. Jace turned away letting them have their moment. Clary’s hand on his shoulder let him know that her mother had gone.

“I don’t think your mother likes me,” Jace said. “That was a look of motherly disappointment if I ever saw one.”

“She’s just worried about me,” Clary said softly, as they walked a little aimlessly, still shocked by the evidence of the battle, from scattered weapons, to the destruction of buildings, to the bloodstains. “I did just murder my father.”

“And brought me back to life, don’t forget about that,” he said softly. “If I didn’t say it before, thank you.”

Clary took his hand, and held it tight. “What else would I possibly ask for?”

“I am divinely handsome,” he said with a little smirk.

She hip-checked him. “Egotistical.”

He shrugged. “We all have our faults.”

They walked a few more minutes in silence. “How are the Lightwoods?”

“Robert and Maryse are… stoic. I don’t think they’re unfeeling about losing their youngest, I just think they don’t want us to see their grief.” Jace took a deep breath. “Iz went to the Gard shortly after, there is a permanent portal there. She told them she would be returning to the Institute for duty, but I think she went to see Simon.” He shrugged, not understanding that move. “It’s not like Alec will give her trouble for not showing up for a mission- it’s not like she- or anyone right now, is assigned to anything.”

“And Alec?” Clary asked, chewing her bottom lip.

“He’s real messed up over it. And I don’t think whatever I did to our bond is helping. I urged him to return to Magnus, and I think since I’m here with you, and Izzy left to see Simon, he might actually do it.”

Clary took a deep breath. “Do you think… now with Jonathan and Valentine dead that… that maybe our lives will get a little calmer?”

Jace shrugged. “You’ve been kind of a danger magnet since I met you,” he said teasingly. “So I doubt it. I figure we’ll just get into a different kind of trouble.”

She smiled, just a little.

::

The boathouse by the Jade Wolf was too cold, to damp, and perfectly miserable. Isabelle, in her white dress, the hem lined with red mourning runes, shoved open the door, and looked inside. Simon, sitting on one of the two chairs he owned, checking various injuries for their healing state. “Maybe you should be with Raphael,” she said, her voice still watery. “We still don’t know what kind of fall out this all will have.”

“Luke’s in the Jade Wolf. I’m not too worried,” Simon said, standing. “Maybe you should be at the Institute, or in Alicante, where there are no Downworlders allowed.”

“There is no one at the Institute I want to see,” she said. “And I can’t bear the grief of my family. I want to be there for them, and I can’t, I can’t Simon. I held him, I held him in my arms-“ her lungs felt like they were collapsing. Simon pulled her in his arms before she could blink. He was cold, but steady. She couldn’t feel a heartbeat, but he murmured comforting words in her ear. “Max.”

“I’ve got you,” he said, rocking her slowly as they stood. “I’ve got you, Isabelle.”

They ended up in his bed, he swaddled her with blankets, effectively making her into a human burrito, and she almost laughed. He could light up even the darkest moments of her life. And when she thought it all too much to bear, he wrapped himself around her, over the blankets, like he shield her from everything bad.

“Tell me a story, Simon,” she asked softly, her eyes still wet despite spending hours crying. “Distract me.”

His voice, a gentle murmur, reciting a story that he clearly knew well, lulled her to sleep.

::

Alec waited in line at the permanent portal in the Gard. He’d filled out the proper requisitions, and honestly, they could shove it if they thought he would actually think of the Institute when he stepped through. He had no intention of going back. His mother was already there, throwing herself headfirst into work to suffocate her grief. Sure, his paperwork said he’d be using the portal to return to the New York Institute, but he thought of Magnus and home.

What he hadn’t counted on was the fact that he hadn’t told Magnus he would be returning. Being that the portal wasn’t one of Magnus’s, and his boyfriend had his wards up, the portal dumped Alec, rather unceremoniously, in the middle of the street, where he was nearly hit by a car.

With a few curses, and a jolt of adrenaline, he made it to the safety of the sidewalk. Jace might have found it comedic, but Alec didn’t. Still in his suit from the funeral, he made his way upstairs, and felt the cool rush that came when he was welcomed through the wards, his ‘energy’ as Magnus explained it, was always welcome and would permit him inside.

He opened the door, and found his boyfriend jolting awake on the couch. Magic swirled around his hands and then dissipated when his eyes settled on Alec. “You’re back,” he said, standing a little unsteadily. Alec looked around, but found no evidence of drinking and took it as his boyfriend simply being exhausted after a long day… after a few long weeks.

“Yeah. No one really needed me, so,” Alec stepped forward, closing the space between them. He let his head fall against Magnus’s shoulder, as his hands gripped lightly at his hips. “And I just wanted to be home.”

Magnus’s hands were threading through his hair, it had grown longer in the weeks of captivity, and due to being too damn busy before that. It barely touched the collar of his suit, and hung into his eyes, he shifted away, and pushed it back with a quick, frustrated gesture.

They stood in the living room. Neither quite knowing what to say. “Have you had dinner?” Magnus finally asked.

Alec shook his head. He hadn’t even thought about eating. “I’m not hungry.”

Magnus frowned, his brows pinching a little, as they did when he was worried. “A snack then?”

Although Alec really didn’t want anything, but he understood the need to take care of someone. Magnus wanted to care for him, to not be idle, Alec could give him that at least. He nodded, and kissed his boyfriend’s temple. “That would be great. Maybe some tea?”

Magnus gave a soft smile. “Coming right up. Do you want to eat here, or in bed?”

“Bed,” Alec replied. It wasn’t particularly late, but his sense of time had been messed up since being kidnapped. Besides, he’d laid his baby brother to rest, and the emotions had really taken the energy out of him. “Mind if I take a shower, or do you need some help?”

“I’ve got it, Darling.”

The scent of smoke clung to his suit, and he tossed it carelessly in the hamper, a move that would probably horrify his boyfriend. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the pyre; the little body bound in white silks, fire eating at the fabric. Alicante, and the surrounding area, had been so filled with smoke. Funerals would be held for days. The magnitude of destruction was unlike Idris had ever seen before, the casualty list- and there were families still looking for their loved ones.

His hand shook as he grabbed the shampoo bottle. A quiet sob escaped his lips. He tried not to think about all the things his little brother would never get to do, but ultimately couldn’t help it. He’d never go on his first mission. Never fall in love. He wouldn’t make new friends, or learn new things. He’d never finish that book series he obsessed over. The shampoo bottle fell from his hands and he braced his back against the wall.

Max would never graduate.

Max would never get married.

Max would never be in another family picture.

Max would never prank Izzy.

Max would never finish his training with Jace.

Max would never-

Never-

Never-

He didn’t realize how lost in his grief he’d become until he realized that someone’s hands were pulling his own away from his face. At some point, he’d slid down the wall and sat under the spray. Magnus looked borderline terrified, fully dressed, the spray sticking the clothing to his skin. “Alexander?”

“He’s gone.”

“I know,” Magnus said softly, the terror receding into sympathy. “Come on, I’ve been trying to get you to snap out of it for a while.” Magnus reached out and turned the water off. “Your fingers are all wrinkly, I know how much you hate that.”

Alec’s nose wrinkled up as he looked at his fingertips. He really did hate it.

“Come on.” Magnus pulled him to his feet, and didn’t seem to mind in the least when Alec pulled him close, his wet body ensuring that even the dry bits of Magnus’s attire got soaked. Magnus just rubbed his bare back in soothing circles. “It’s okay, let it out, I’ve got you.”

With permission to completely fall apart, and the trust he had in Magnus, let his grief fully out of it’s cage. His heart; raw, open, and vulnerable, was completely in the Warlock’s hands. He sobbed into his boyfriend’s shoulder; the cold, wet fabric soothing to his overheated skin.

Magnus’s voice remained as comforting as the hands that held him.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lost a quarter of this chapter when my computer randomly shut down. *sigh*
> 
> BUT in good news, I love how this chapter turned out.   
> ALL THE PARABATAI FEELS <3

Jace swung his blade, but missed the target. He caught sight of Alec’s eyes glowing gold, and felt the energy rush through his body. _You’re stealing his stamina, syphoning his strength._ Alec stumbled a little, but dodged the blow from the shadowed figure. All of Alec’s moves were slow, and sloppy. _He’ll be okay, Alec will be fine._ Jace charged, knocked the opponent back with the combined energy, their Parabatai runes glowing softly.

Alec leaned on his weapon, barely managing to stay upright.

_You’re killing him._

_No. Alec will be fine. Just a little more. A little more._

He struck out against their enemy. He could protect them both. He was the only one who could take on their enemy. Seraph blades clashed, their feet moved in the practiced dance of battle. A wide grin of pearly teeth, and the shadow twirled as Jace struck out with a killing blow.

_NO!_

Alec stood, the blade through his chest, the shadowy figure coming to light. Jonathan smiled over Alec’s shoulder. “Oh no,” Jonathan said. “Look at what you’ve done, Jace.”

“No, no, no, no,” Jace whispered his hand leaving the hilt of the blade.

The glow left Alec’s eyes, their usual blue stared at him in confusion. “Jace?” Blood speckled his lips, his face scrunching in pain.

“Alec, I didn’t- I didn’t mean to. Oh, Angel.” Jace couldn’t rip out the blade, in fear the already rapid blood loss would increase. Instead he pressed his hands around the wound, fingers shaking. “I’m sorry, we’ll get you to Magnus. He’ll fix you up. He’ll fix you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, too shocked for tears.

“You can’t save him.” Jonathan smiled, holding Alec up from behind. “He’s dying, can’t you feel it?” His hand slid across Alec’s chest, and pressed over his heart. “Thud. Thud… gone.”

Finally looking away from the wound, he found Alec’s head hanging, the only reason he was still upright was Jonathan. “Alec?” Not thinking about his bloodied hands, he cupped Alec’s face, tipping it back, to see his eyes were still slightly open, but staring blankly. Blood dripped from his mouth. “Alec, no!”

Sharp pain hit his parabatai bond. _You killed him. You killed your parabatai. You’re the worst kind of monster. You deserve to die. You should die. Die. Die._

“Yes,” Valentine’s voice whispered from behind as the blade slammed through the back of his ribs and up into his heart. “You do deserve to die.”

**_Dead._ **

“-ce, Jace!” Clary’s screaming hit him with a burst of adrenaline. He could feel his Strength, and Fortitude runes activating without a thought. “Jace, please! It’s just a dream, wake up!”

He gasped for air, his lungs feeling deprived of it. He sucked it in as though he’d just been brought back from the dead, which is exactly what it felt like. His hands felt slick, and warm, the memory of Alec’s blood on his hands hit him. His stomach rolled, and he practically pushed Clary away as he tried to rush for the bathroom, only his left leg was entangled in the sheets so instead he ended up tripping out of bed, his palms catching the brunt of the fall. He threw up on the floor, both embarrassed and disgusted when he sat back.

Clary’s hands were cool when the pushed his hair back from his sweaty forehead. “Jace, what do you need? I can change the sheets, you’ll feel better in clean sheets if you want to go back to sleep.” He shook his head. “I can draw you a bath. By the Angel, you’re so feverish. We need-“ he shook his head, then it only made his stomach worse and he stopped.

“I-I’m fine.” Years of the lie rolling off his tongue made it easy to lie to her. Being a Shadowhunter meant being strong- even when you weren’t. “I have to clean this up. Go back to sleep, Clary.”

“No.” Her big green eyes were a little watery, her hands reverently sitting on his shoulders, thumbs rubbing soothing circles. “You are always there for me, Jace. Let me be there for you.”

“I like the idea of you in a little nurse outfit,” he said, but the delivery was too dry for her ever to believe he could actually brush this off.

His name rolled off her tongue with a touch of admonishment.

Slowly, with a shaky hand, his fingers pressed against where Valentine- the man who had raised him for the first decade of his life- stabbed him, multiple times. The man he’d thought of as his father had murdered him. Panic swelled, and he sucked in a breath. With his eyes closed, he focused his energy inward, searching for the bond, tugging, tugging, but feeling nothing.

“I want Alec,” the words came out as a rush, and on the edge of panic.

“Okay, I will get Alec,” Clary said evenly, brushing his hair back from his face once again.

“No. He. I-“ The dream resurfaced with vivid clarity. Those blank blue eyes, staring down. “I killed him.”  In the… the dream. He.. I- Clary, I killed him.”

“No, no,” she shook her head. “It was just a dream. You didn’t kill him.” She grabbed his hand and stuck it against the Parabatai rune above the track pants he’d fallen asleep in.

_You killed him. You’re the worst kind of monster. You killed your own Parabatai. You let Max down. He’s dead, and you killed Alec. He’s dead. They’re dead. It’s all your fault._

**_And you’re next._ **

The swirling purple vortex took him by surprise, and momentarily derailed his self-deprecating thoughts. Clary stood by it, her hair whipping around wildly, her Stele still in hand. She reached out for him. “Come on, let’s go to Alec.”

There was nothing in the world that sounded better. Nothing else could stop the train wreck in his mind. He grabbed her hand, and thought of Alec- even though he knew he should be thinking of Magnus’s loft. They still ended up inside.

And immediately he found himself with an armful of warm Parabatai. “It’s okay, it’s okay, Jace.” Alec’s voice a steady rumble, his body steady and strong. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Vaguely he heard Magnus talking to Clary. Something about Alec sensing something through the bond, panic. And Alec demanded that Magnus bring the wards down before the same thing happened to Jace and Clary that happened to Alec.

_To Alec._

Jace wriggled until Alec let go. Able to finally get a good look at his Parabatai, the painful knot in his chest loosened. Other than his slightly disheveled hair, (looking like he’d fallen asleep on one side when his hair had been wet and it dried that way,) he looked just fine. He wore dark blue, silk pajama pants, (that Jace would bet his favourite Seraph blade was a gift from Magnus,) his runes were still stark against his skin, or white lines of burned out runes that were never reactivated.

No blood on his lips, no gore, his blue eyes a little tired, but alert, bright, and alive. Jace collided with him again, holding him closer, wishing he could feel Alec through the bond, tugging, tugging, tugging.

Alec hissed out a breath. “I feel you, I can feel you, Jace. Stop pulling. I’m right here.”

“Is there a problem?” Magnus asked, sounding concerned.

“Nothing, Jace just doesn’t know his own strength.”

“I can’t feel you,” Jace muttered. “Pull on it, or try to send me something through it. Do something.” A long minute passed. “Alec, try, please.”

“I _am_ trying, Jace,” Alec grumbled. “And you’re hot.” Magnus loudly cleared his throat, and Alec shot his boyfriend a dry look. “Not like that.” For the sake of appearances, Jace loudly cleared his throat. Alec cursed under his breath. “You’re quite aware of how you look, but currently it’s a little like roadkill, and you’re burning up, and sweating.” He glared at Clary. “Why didn’t you do something about his fever?”

Clary threw her hands up. “He wanted to see you! Besides, have you ever actually gotten Jace to do anything you wanted him to?”

Alec just grabbed Jace by the back of the neck, and led them all to the bathroom. Jace found himself released in the middle of the bathroom. Alec turned on the water for the tub, and pulled open a closet- home to fluffy towels, currently in burgundy, an arrangement of soaps, shampoos, conditioners, candles, salts, essential oils, and bubble bath.

A moment of consideration later, and Alec dumped a cup of Epson salt into the bath. A few seconds later, a couple capfuls of bubble bath. He bit his lip as he stared into the depths of one of the shelves. “Mags, which one is for sleep again?”

“Lavender, Darling. Although, you seem to find Frankincense most calming, I’m willing to bet your Parabatai would react similarly.” Jace startled at finding Magnus so close. Magnus looked him over, then turned his attention back to Alec. “Five drops.” Alec continued prepping the bath, and Jace just stared in confusion. Alec- practical to a fault Alec- was spending more time on making his bathwater look pretty than he did on some reports. Magnus shifted just a little closer. “Don’t make fun of him for this.”

“I won’t,” Jace whispered back.

Alec pulled a neatly rolled towel out. Jace reached for it, but Alec just pulled it out of reach, and held it out for Magnus.

“Look, I’m glad we’re good at sharing, but I’m not sharing a bath with your boyfriend,” Jace said dryly.

Alec rolled his eyes at Jace, then turned his attention to Magnus. He wiggled his hand over the towel. “Do the thing?”

Magnus repeated the movement; blue flames flickered over the towel, and Alec didn’t seem to mind, the flames licking over his fingers only caused him to smile. When they went out, Alec passed Jace the towel. He reached out cautiously, and found the material fresh from the dryer warm. “That’s nice.”

“It’ll stay like that for hours,” Alec said with a grin.

“Well I don’t intend on staying in that long,” Jace said, making a shooing motion. “Go. I’ll be quick.”

Clary lingered a moment, and Alec grabbed Magnus, the two whispering before Magnus nodded and moved up onto his toes to give Alec a quick kiss- only it appeared that Alec was having none of that non-sense, and pulled Magnus closer, drinking each other in, before they finally shifted away from each other. Magnus and Clary left, but Alec just straddled a vanity chair, facing the back of it, his arms folded, and his forehead pressed against his arms. “Get in the tub, Jace. They’re bubbles, not venom.”

Jace understood then. Maybe Alec could still feel his fear through the bond, the fear of being separated from his Parabatai. Of what could happen. And a part of him was also scared of being around Alec, afraid of what could happen by his own hand.

The water was warm, but it still cooled his overheated body. He sat down, the bubbles covering his body up to his collarbone. “I feel ridiculous.”

“Good.” He could hear the smile in Alec’s voice.

“You can stop staring at your forearms now. All the good bits are covered.” Alec shifted just slightly, his chin now resting on his forearms. Only then did Jace realize how late… or early it was- he’d not only terrified Clary, but woken Alec and Magnus.  “Shit, what time is it?”

“Dunno, three? Four in the morning?” Alec yawned.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Jace wiggled his fingers through the bubbles. “Can you still feel me?”

“Not right this second, but sometimes,” Alec replied. “When I do, it’s overpowering. Tonight, I could tell you were sleeping, I know what it feels like when you’re asleep, but that panic, and fear, and grief, and then the bond started to ache and-“ Alec rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms. “I think our bond is still there, it’s just… ever since you discovered those extra angelic gifts, your side has been getting stronger.”

The blond considered it a moment. “And when I started pulling from your runes, and dying and coming back to life… it tipped it heavily in my favour?”

“I think so,” Alec said softly. “I can’t be sure. Magnus want’s to see if he can do anything about it. He’s worried, not just about me, but about you, about our… balance.”

“It’s probably a good idea,” Jace said, leaning his head back. He actually liked the scent, and now that it was so potent, he knew he’d smelled it on Alec before, lighter- worn off, but definitely the same. That was probably half the reason it relaxed him so much. The salts went to work at his tense muscles, and he pushed the bubbles around. “Earlier, Magnus said something happened to you. Something about the wards?”

“Oh.” Alec flushed. “I didn’t think to send Mags a fire message. I mean, usually his wards just let me in. But they didn’t recognize the magic of the portal in Idris… so it kind of dumped me outside of the wards. In the street. Where I was nearly hit by a car.” Alec sighed. “It wasn’t my finest moment.”

Silence dragged on for a few minutes.

“Jace? What did you dream of?” Guilt swamped him, and when Alec sucked in a deep breath, he knew that he’d unintentionally projected it through the bond. “Jace?”

“I-“ His lungs felt constricted and Alec was at his side in a moment.

“Breathe! It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me, it’s okay, I’m here.”

“I killed you.”

“Oh, Jace.”

“We were fighting Jonathan, and I was pulling on your runes, and I went to stab him, but he put you between us and I… you… you looked so betrayed.” He covered his face with his hands, incapable of looking at his Parabatai. “I killed you.”

“No. You didn’t.” Alec’s voice was firm, concrete, an anchor to keep him grounded. “You didn’t kill me. You killed Jonathan, and he fucking deserved it.”

“I still can’t feel you,” Jace sobbed, feeling weak and pathetic.

“I can feel you,” Alec said, grabbing his wrists and pulling his hands from his face. “I can feel you, Jace. We’ve been through Hell for weeks, you’re not weak, for breaking down.”

“I-I-“

“I cried so hard in the shower than it took Magnus nearly ten minutes to calm me down to a state where he could actually realize he was even there. Am I weak for that?”

“No, of course not.”

“I’m not a special case,” Alec said softly. “Stop being so hard on yourself. If you don’t think I’m weak for leaning on Magnus, than you can’t think yourself weak for leaning on me.”

“You’ve been through enough,” Jace muttered. “I don’t want to burden you.”

Alec sighed. “You’re my Parabatai, Idiot. You’re half my soul, not my burden.”

“After Max,” Jace wiped angrily at the tears falling.

Alec sat down at that, leaning his back against the tub. “It’ll take us all a long time to get over what happened to Max. But we will heal.”

Jace smiled a little at Alec using what he and Isabelle called his ‘big brother voice.’ Even when he was scared, or uncertain, he would speak with such conviction that they believed him.  

“I promise, Jace. We’ll figure it out.”

Jace nodded, and then frowned when he saw his fingertips. “Ew. I’m getting prune-y.”

Alec chuckled. “I hate that, too.” He stood. “I’ll give you some privacy, and get you something to wear.”

“Alec?”

“Yeah?”

“Nothing. Nothing,” Jace said.

Alec glared. “What?”

“Can I-“ Jace paused, but Alec just waited patiently. The words were choked up; needs of comfort and closeness. It felt too needy, to intrusive to even ask.

Alec tilted his head a little, and Jace realized he was projecting on the bond and Alec was trying to figure out what he wanted through the feelings. “Please, just ask.” Alec winced. “The bond it too sensitive, and I can’t tell what you want to ask.”

Knowing that Alec wouldn’t just let it go, and his fretting was putting pressure on Alec’s oversensitive side of the bond, he sighed. “Can I sleep with you? I… I can’t feel you, and it’s maddening. Especially after that dream. It’s like… It’s like I killed you, and you’re gone, and I’ll never feel you through the bond again and-“

“Yes. Of course. By the Angel,” Alec rubbed his temples. “Just get out of the tub. I’ll get you clothes-“

“I feel like I’m putting myself between you and Magnus.”

“Oh, you’re not. I’ll be in the middle of you and Magnus,” he said walking away. “Clary can sleep on the other side.”

“Clary?”

“Well, we’re not going to stick her on the couch by herself. It’s been a hard few weeks on everyone.” He raised a brow, and Jace knew it was a silent question.

“She’d like that, I think,” Jace said, and while he needed to feel Alec, he also wanted Clary- and it figured that Alec would know that too. “Thanks.”

Alec nodded, and finally left him alone.

As promised, the fluffy towel was still warm.


	38. Chapter 38

If there was one person he didn’t expect to see at the doors of the Hotel Dumort at midnight, it would be Áine. Yet, there she stood. Her hair done in impressive curls, dressed in a blue, polka-dot dress in a style that hadn’t been popular since the fifties, black pumps, blood red lips, and eyeliner sharper than her rapier. A bottle full of a thick, purple liquid dangled from her fingers. She cocked her hip, and planted her hand on it. “Well, are you going to invite me in, Raphael Santiago?”

He took a step back, letting her in. Being that it was late, the vampires were awake, and a few still lingered around the hotel. One of those vampires, who’d been lounging on one of the chairs, reading a book, hissed at her, flashing the queen his fangs.

“The daughter dies at the end of the book,” Áine told him with a triumphant smile on her face, hooking her arm around Raphael’s, and leading them from the room.

“He threatened you, and you told him the end of a book?”

She smiled, but it didn’t touch her eyes. “I think I won that round.”

“What are you doing here?”

Her features arranged into a blank mask. “Do you not enjoy my company?”

“I figured you’d be busy, what with…”

Her face remained stone. “Cara.”

“Yes. And now being the Queen,” he said, turning to lead her down the stairs, “I thought it would keep you sufficiently busy.”

“It’s been weeks,” she replied. “Time moves differently there.”

He paused at the bottom of the stairs, even as she stepped off the last stair; she towered over him in those heels. “And how are you?”

“Horrible, most of the time,” she replied with the unflinching honesty only a Seelie could truly deliver. “I no longer have friends, I have subjects. It is… disturbing.”

“What about Niv?”

“Niv is different. He was never a _friend_ to begin with,” she said, following as he led to the room with the phonograph. “I love him, but he has distanced himself.” She brushed her thumb along her lower lip, the lipstick didn’t smudge. “I don’t know what will come of that. I suppose, he is giving me space to grieve, and perhaps to grieve himself. Problem is, I’ve never liked drinking alone. And it’s hardly appropriate for me to get _sloshed_ \- is that the term now?- with my subjects.”

He pulled the sheets off a couple of antique chairs that hadn’t been used in a decade, and they both took one. “And so you came here?”

“Sadly, you’re one of the few people I can trust now.”

Raphael raised a brow. “I’m not sure if I should be honoured, or insulted.”

Her lips curved, just slightly. “I’m not sure either. Perhaps, I’m not the best company.” She popped the cork on the bottle, and took a mouthful. The drink moved more like a honey, than a spirit. “Want some?”

“And just what will it do to me?” he asked. “Vampire, remember?”

“It’ll get you drunk, and its fit for vampire consumption or I wouldn’t offer it to you,” she replied. “Trust me?”

He eyed the drink suspiciously. “You and I might have a difference of opinion when it comes to what is ‘fit’ for vampire consumption.”

She stared him right in the eye. “If you drink this, you will get drunk. You will possibly have a hangover in the morning. You might sing Frank Sinatra with a slight slur. Perhaps you’re the type who loses his pants when you’ve had one too many, how am I to know? However, I guarantee that you will only get drunk by drinking this.”

He searched the words for any signs of misdirection, but she’d been very straightforward. He glanced at the bottle, then back to her. “Perhaps one of us should remain sober.”

The bold lipstick only highlighted her frown. She took another mouthful, swallowed. She stared at him openly for long enough that he became uncomfortable. “Do you enjoy my company, Raphael Santiago?”

“Just Raphael,” he said. “I thought we were past this.”

She tilted her head. “Now who is deflecting?”

At first, with such a question, he worried about offending the Queen, knowing what a dangerous thing that could be. Seelies didn’t handle offence, they responded swift and viciously. However, the answer settled truthfully in his chest, and he didn’t worry about admitting it. “Yes, Áine, I enjoy your company.”

She tilted the neck of the bottle in his direction. He sighed, and took a small mouthful of it. It was so different from blood, thicker, and seeming to stick to his tongue. It tasted like flowers, and overripe berries. His face scrunched, and his left eye twitched.

She chuckled. “It’s an acquired taste.”

“It’s foul is what it is,” Raphael replied, wishing for some blood to wash the taste away.

She set the bottle down, and walked over to the phonogram. The same vinyl remained ready to play. She lined up the needle, and gently let it down. The music started, and she swayed, the long skirt of her dress grazing her calves. She extended a hand. “Dance with me?”

Knowing better than to deny the simple request, he stood, and took her hand. “This height difference is uncomfortable,” he said, looking anywhere but at her.

“Most men would happily remain at chest height,” she said with a smile in her voice. She kicked her heels off, and stood barefoot, only slightly taller than him now. “Have you received a summons to the Clave?”

He took over leading the dance, and she easily fell into step. “Yes. Who is the Seelie representative? It was Meliorn before- but now-“

“I’ll be sending Niv.” She closed her eyes, but followed the steps of the dance easily. “The wording of the summons is troubling.”

“Sounded formal to me.”

“I doubt we got the same summons,” the Seelie said. “The Clave knows that Valentine had the help of the former Queen. There were Seelies who actively went against the Accords. They’ll want my people punished for that.”

“You helped take Valentine down,” he said. “Your people helped protect Alicante.”

Her eyes opened, a flash of gold. “Do you honestly believe the Clave cares?”

Raphael remained quiet for a moment. “There are those within it that do. Many of those in power died during the battle. There is a restructuring.”

“We shall see. I can’t predict the future, that is-was-“ she took a deep breath.

“It was Cara’s specialty.”

She sighed. “And look at what good it did her.” She took a step away, locating the bottle and frowning. “I should have brought cups.” She tilted it upside down and waited until the liquid got to the neck of the bottle before bringing it to her lips.

“The Vampires will side with the Seelies. The Downworld must remain united.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” she said. “But the Downworld is not united. It is as chaotic as it has always been, and that is why the Shadowhunters will always remain with us under their thumb. Magnus Bane is the Warlock representative, you think he’ll side with the Downworld over his precious Shadowhunter? Do you think the Werewolf representative Luke Garroway will choose the Downworld over his love, and the child he sees as his own?” She corked the bottle and balanced it upside down. “We are at a turning point. Perhaps the Downworld and the Shadowhunters can unite, perhaps the accords will become stronger, and more fair. I hope for that, I believe there are pieces upon the board that can make it happen. However, those pieces are vastly outnumbered.”

“You believe in the Lightwoods.”

“Oddly enough, yes. I trust them, and it’s unnerving.”

“Do you trust Magnus?”

She shrugged. “More or less.”

“Luke?”

“Good man. I like him.”

Raphael stared at her, she had a little drunken flush to her cheeks, and appeared a little softer than she had when she came in. “And me?”

“You?” She smiled coyly. “What about you?”

“You’re deflecting.”

“You’re observant.”

Giving up, he turned to switch the vinyl. With a new record on, he turned only to find her right behind him. Wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t given up her heels.

“I never thanked you, did I?” she asked.

“For what?”

“Staying with Cara,” her voice broke. “You took care of her in those final moments- moments I should have been there for her, and I wasn’t.”

“Áine, you don’t have to thank me for that.”

He could hear her heart, Seelie hearts always beat unnaturally fast, but this wasn’t close to their usual rhythm. “Thank you,” she said anyway, tears escaping her eyes.

He brushed the tears away and pulled her close, her body trembling as she cried. The wailing of Seelies is always unpleasant- and considered to be where the legends of banshees came from- and while Áine’s cries were no exception, the utter heartbreak overwhelmed him. Her fingers dug into his suit jacket, and he wished he could find something to say to make it better. Finding no suitable words, he held her tighter.

::

Jace didn’t even open his eyes when he woke, the rest of the early morning hours had been free of nightmares. He enjoyed the moment of peace, simply breathing, feeling comfortable, warmth pressing at all sides. At first he thought it was Clary’s hair tickling his chest, but then remembered she’d slept on the opposite side. His arm was under her neck, and a little numb, her feet were pressed against his leg.

Alec’s head rested on his chest, a hand over the Parabatai rune, like he could ensure Jace felt him through the bond.  Maybe it worked, Jace mused, he had slept well with Alec by his side. He felt Alec shift a little, his hand sliding before disappearing entirely. He heard a little whine, and knew Alec well enough that he was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“How did you sleep?” Magnus whispered, his voice deeper, a lazy way of speaking that said he just woke.

Alec just made a little affirmative hum. He’d never been much of a morning talker. Jace found it comforting to know that didn’t change even with Magnus around.

“I should start on breakfast,” Magnus kept his voice low. “You Shadowhunters need your energy.”

Alec shifted at that, rolling to his back, but remaining in contact with Jace. “You need your energy too, Mags.” A quiet yawn. “I’ll help with breakfast, but just… stay a little longer. Clary and Jace are both sleeping anyway.”

Jace then knew Alec couldn’t feel him either. It seemed that as long as Jace didn’t actively seek the bond, Alec was blinded to it.

It took him a moment to register the sound for what it was; they were kissing. Nothing to the extent of making him feel awkward, but those quick, easy, good morning kisses.

“How do you always taste like mint?” Alec complained. “I mean, come on, it’s not even fair.”

Magnus’s breath seemed off, and Jace knew he was trying to keep in his laughter. “Magic, Darling.”

“Not fair,” Alec just repeated.

A crackle, the scent of paper burning. “Ah, I’ve been expecting something like this,” Magnus said.

A fire message. Jace tried not to let himself frown, the arm under Clary was tingling.

Alec shifted further from Jace, and closer to Magnus. “Is it the Clave?”

“Yes,” Magnus replied. “Requesting my presence in Idris in two days’ time. Do you think you’ll get a summons?”

“It’s likely,” Alec replied. “Not as a representative of the Institute though.” The blankets shifted a little. “After everything that has happened with Valentine and Jonathan, the Clave will want answers. We’ve put in basic reports, but they’ll probably summon me, Jace, Clary, and Izzy.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Honestly? Terrified,” Alec whispered. Jace felt the shudder running through Alec’s frame. “If they find out I can’t use runes-“

“Darling-“

“I can’t feel my Parabatai-“

“Darling-“

“And after everything with Max-“

“ _Alexander.”_ Silence, heavy and tense. A choked sob. “Oh, Alexander, come here.”

The warmth of Alec’s body was completely gone, as he turned into Magnus’s arms. Jace didn’t hear any crying, but knew as a child, Alec would hold his breath when he was truly upset- trying to suffocate the sobs. He heard the soft shushing of Magnus, a murmured voice, too low to hear. A couple of choked breaths from Alec before he returned to holding his breath.

And Jace couldn’t _feel_ any of it.

He reached out, uncaring if they knew he was awake now. He extended two fingers and pressed just below Alec’s ribs, where he knew he was ticklish. The breath left Alec in a surprised rush that a loud sob followed- loud enough that Clary startled awake, and finally moved off of Jace’s arm.

His arm tingled when he moved. “Alec-“ he wanted to say something, wanted to do something to stop Alec’s painful cries. “What can I do?”

Alec sniffled a little, clearly trying to pull himself back together. “Nothing,” he muttered miserably. “It is what it is, and we must endure it.” He wiped at his face. “We should have breakfast.”

Knowing that Alec needed routine, Jace nodded. “I’ll help.”


	39. Chapter 39

When Isabelle woke up, it was because she was too damn hot. So incredibly tucked in, she struggled to escape the blankets. The previous night returned to her. She hadn’t gone to the Institute, but found solace in Simon.

The door to the boatshed screeched open, and her whip slithered down her hand, and curled onto the floor. She took two steps and could see Simon shutting the door, all while balancing a brown paper bag, and a frothy iced drink. He noticed her and smiled. “Hey, you haven’t been up long, right? I wanted to get you breakfast. I’m not entirely sure what you’d like, so I have three different kinds of muffins, a few scones, and a croissant. Got that iced mochaccino with extra whip that you like.”

She wound her whip back up, and walked over to him, gratefully accepting the drink. He set the bag of pastries on his guitar amp. “Sorry, I don’t have plates.”

“I didn’t really expect you to,” she said, sitting down on one of the lawn chairs. “You’re a vampire who drinks blood, and you live in a boatshed. You’re not exactly the type to throw a dinner party.”

“I don’t know, I could invest in some fancy goblets,” Simon said, settling down across from her. “A vampire party for peace. A Positive Party.” He grinned. “Get it? Because of the blood type.”

She couldn’t help the little smile that crept upon her face. “I get it.”

She took a sip out of the straw, and sighed as the caffeine hit her system. After setting the drink on the floor, she dug through the bag. It was so thoughtful that he would go through the trouble to get her breakfast, especially since he couldn’t actually eat any of it. Also, his care of not being sure what she’d like, and thus buying half the bakery’s options made her feel warm and cared for.

She took out a white-chocolate and cranberry scone. “Thank you.” She frowned. “It’s got to be close to sun up.” 

“You’re welcome, and I’ve been a vampire a while now. I knew I had time to get back here safely.”

She took a few bites, washing it down with her cool drink. “Have you spoken to Raphael?”

“No. I mean, I know I’m welcome at the Dumort. I just… I feel better here.” Simon shifted a little. “A lot of the vampires don’t like me. I don’t want to cause problems.”

They were quiet for a while, Isabelle eating, and Simon strumming a little on his acoustic guitar.

 Isabelle’s phone rang, breaking the peaceful atmosphere. She brushed the crumbs from her pants, and grabbed the phone. Alec’s smiling face- a picture she’d actually gotten from Magnus, came up with his contact information. She answered. “Hey, Alec.”

_“Hey, Iz. How are you?”_

“I’m alright,” she said. “I’m with Simon.”

_“Want breakfast? Jace and I are cooking.”_

“Actually, I already ate.”

_“Have you received a summons from the Clave yet?”_

She frowned. “No. Have you?”

 _“Yes. So has Jace. And Clary.”_ His sigh put a little static on the line. _“And Magnus… what? Yeah- okay-okay, Jace, Angel’s effigy on a cracker, I got it, shut up.”_

“Alec?”

 _“Jace says you have to come over.”_ Alec grumbled a little. _“He also says you should bring the vampire.”_ She couldn’t hear what he said next, but the tone had softened before he returned. _“Magnus says he can portal you, if he knows where you are.”_

“Simon’s boatshed, right by the Jade Wolf. He can’t go outside, sun is up.”

A slick-swish sound came just a second before the purple swirl grew in the room and Magnus in his silk pajamas, stepped out. “Your portal awaits.”

“See you soon,” she said into the phone, before hanging up on Alec. “Magnus.”

“Isabelle,” the Warlock smiled at her and held open his arms. She walked into them gratefully, hugging him tight. He smelled a little like Alec, and that only made her feel more fondly about him. “How are you?” he asked, his hand cupping her jaw.

She managed a shrug. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispered. If she tried talking, she’d cry, and if she started crying again, she wasn’t sure she could ever stop.

Magnus nodded. “If you ever need anything,” he said, his voice full of promise.

“I know,” she replied softly. She then turned to Simon. “Come on, you’re with us.”

Magnus threw the vampire a smile. “Come now, Sherman!”

“Really?” Simon muttered, but his expression brightened when Isabelle took his hand, and linked their fingers.

They walked into the loft, the swish-slick sound of the portal closing also stopped the slight wind that swirled around. Isabelle, found the living room in slight disarray, not so much messy, as evidence it was lived in.

“Breakfast is ready,” Clary called out.

“Stop eating the bacon!” Alec snapped three seconds later.

“I’m not,” she heard Jace reply, even though it sounded as though he had a mouthful.

“Got any A Positive?” Simon asked, walking a few steps before either Isabelle or Magnus could stop him. He paused as he noticed. He stood well within the sunrays, since Magnus had yet to close the blinds. Rather than the awful singeing of his skin, he remained completely unharmed. “What the actual fuck?”

“By the Angel,” Isabelle whispered.

“Alec!” Magnus’s voice took on a slight edge. “You might want to see this.”

That got both Alec and Jace’s attention, and they both rushed out to the living room just before Clary joined them.

“Simon!” Clary screeched in shock.

“It doesn’t hurt.” Simon turned to stare at the window, and got closer to it, slowly, as if he expected his skin to react. He stared out the window, before turning back to them, eyes wide, and jaw slack. “I… it doesn’t hurt.” He looked down at his arms, his hands, trying to find some part of his skin affected.

“How is this possible?” Alec wondered.

“Did you wish for this?” Isabelle asked, looking at Clary.

“You only get one wish with the Angel,” Clary replied, her eyes darting to Jace.

“He’s a Daylighter,” Magnus said.

“This has happened before?” Jace asked.

“I’ve heard of it. Legends.” Magnus glanced at the liquor cart as if now sounded like a good time to start drinking. “Never any proof.” 

“What did the legend say caused the change?” Alec asked.

Magnus shrugged. “I don’t know if it ever specified. Besides, if it was well known, and it worked, all vampires would be Daylighters.”

“Well,” Alec planted his hands on his hips. “This is so low on my list of problems it doesn’t even register. Breakfast is getting cold though.”

“Way to have your priorities,” Clary scolded. “This is huge!”

“Don’t let any vamps know,” was Alec’s advice. “They’ll want in on the secret, and even if you don’t know it… it’s worth killing over. I mean, it’s probably less of a blessing, more of a curse.”

“Okay, Mr. Optimism, that is more than enough,” Isabelle crossed her arms.

“This,” Alec waved his hand in Simon’s general direction. “Is not my problem.” He turned and left.

“He’s had a hard few weeks,” Magnus said in his boyfriends defence, and then walked off after him.

“Alec isn’t wrong,” Jace said, only to get swatted in the arm by Clary. “What? He isn’t.” He looked over at Simon. “You need to be careful. Don’t flaunt this. It could get you hurt.”

“I… I can walk in sunlight again,” Simon said, running his hands through his hair. “I’m not going to stay in the darkness if the sun isn’t going to kill me.”

Jace sighed, and turned, leaving the girls with Simon. “I’m not saying lock yourself away,” Isabelle said carefully. “I’m saying ‘be careful.’” She looked at one of Magnus’s vases. “I’ve lost enough.”

“Izzy,” Simon said softly. “I’ll be fine. Better than fine. This is the best news I’ve had since I died.”

Isabelle nodded, even though she didn’t feel settled. “Come on, if we don’t go with Clary, she’s going to end up out of breakfast. Those boys are pigs.”

“I heard that,” Jace called from the kitchen.

“We heard it, and we’re offended.” Alec said.

But when they got to the kitchen, Alec had his fork poised against Jace’s thieving hands, protecting a portion of bacon for Clary. He glared at his parabatai, before giving her the strips.

“Thanks, Alec,” Clary said, settling next to him.

Isabelle was impressed about the developing friendship between Alec and Clary, but worried about the trauma endured for them to have gotten to that point. Just because, she stole a piece of bacon from Jace’s plate, and shoved it in her mouth before he could wrestle it from her. Jace hunched over his plate and shot her a glare. “I feel so betrayed.”

“Victory is delicious,” she said in reply.

He smiled.

::

Raphael had no reason to be awake this early in the morning, but Áine shifted in her sleep, moving all too much. They had drank until nearly four in the morning. More her drinking than him, but the faerie spirit had softened the edges. They’d danced, and he’d been a little less bitter about it. The rhythm, and closeness brought him a sense of peace that had long eluded him. By the time the sun crept upon the horizon, she was far too unsteady to send off to the nearest entrance to the faerie realm. Thus, he’d taken her to his own bed, the only way to ensure she didn’t wander off, or get herself in trouble with any other vampires.

In her sleep, she kicked out, and it connected with his shin. He let out a sharp breath, even as the pain immediately ebbed.

“Raphael?”

“Yeah?” he turned to her, her eyes still closed.

“Take me dancing.”

“We spent hours dancing.”

Her eyes opened; dark green, and glossy. “I liked it.”

With her, he couldn’t help the honesty on his tongue. “I enjoyed it as well.”

She shifted closer, her eyes studying his face. She still wore the dress, even though he’d changed into shorts and a t-shirt for sleeping. She slowly, lightly placed her head upon his chest. “Is this okay?”

He didn’t want her to get the wrong idea, even though he liked the softness of her body, slowly moulding herself to him, her arm draped over his chest, a leg curling around his. “It is… but… we can’t- I don’t-“

She twisted a little, so her chin rested on his chest and she looked up at him. “I’m too drunk to decipher what you’re saying. Try again.”

Raphael took a deep breath. “I- I just don’t-“

“You’re gay?” she asked, blinking slow.

“No. I’m just not interested in sex.”

“Oh.”

He expected her to move away, or to apologise, or to leave. She didn’t.

“But this is okay? Cuddling?” she asked.

He shrugged. “It’s fine.”

She sighed, letting her cheek press against his chest again. “’Kay.”

“You’re fine with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You seem…”

She sighed, and put her chin on his chest again, staring up at him. “Interested in sex?”

“Yeah.”

“I am.”

“I’m not.”

“We established that,” she replied, her glamour falling, clearly too exhausted to maintain the magic required. He could see her wings, the translucent material soft and glossy, strings of silver, gold, and green running through them. “What are you getting at?”

“What are we?”

She groaned. “I like you. I like your company. I’d like to spend more time with you. I’ve felt that way for a long time, but now… everything’s a mess for me, and you feel like safe harbour. Perhaps I’m taking advantage of the fact that you’ve never turned me away before.”

She fussed with the pocket on his shirt. “We are whatever you want us to be. If you never want to see me again, fine.” She had an edge in her voice that spoke of the fact that she would respect the decision, even if she wouldn’t be happy about it. “If this,” she gestured to how they currently laid, “is as much as you ever want, I’m okay with that.”

Her thumb brushed along his lower lip, and it startled him a little, he hadn’t noticed her move, he’d been too busy staring into her eyes. She smiled a little. “I would like to kiss you though.” She then sighed, her eyes drooping, her wings settled instead of doing the strange fluttering they had been. “Can we talk about this when I’m not half asleep, and drunk. We’ve established cuddles are good, can’t we just cuddle?”

He nodded, and she settled against him, one of her wings shifted, and draped over him. It surprised him that it was rather cool to the touch, and felt like silk. She excited him, made him feel young in a world that had aged him far beyond his years. He bundled her closer, and fell asleep with a smile on his face.

::

Jace and Alec had decided to try to do runes after breakfast. As hard as it would be, Jace couldn’t let his parabatai go without runes. Short-term, it was impeding his recovery- his body used to runes tired quicker, and had slower reactions. Long-term, he wouldn’t be able to go on missions. Demons would kill him if he couldn’t defend himself, he needed the extra speed boost, stamina, flexibility, and angelic power of his runes.

Deep down, he knew that Alec would feel safest doing it in the loft, and the place that would make him feel the most secure would be his and Magnus’s bedroom. So, that’s where they were, sitting on a rug by the bed, cross legged and facing each other.

Between them, a stele. They’d been there a while, talking, staring at the stele, talking some more.

“Would it help if it weren’t a stele?” Jace asked after a while. “We could use a marker or something?”

“I’m not afraid of markers.”

“So it’s the stele you fear,” Jace asked, “and not the rune?”

Alec shrugged. “I’m not sure.” He stared at the metal and adamas between them. “It makes me feel sick to even look at it. I thought I was past it. I marked Dad, and I had the alliance rune with Magnus-“

“But you said you pulled something from me,” Jace said.

“I could feel you through the bond. I somehow… I don’t know, leaned on your bravery, borrowed it?” Alec rubbed at his lower lip, over where the little scars had once been. At some point they’d healed- and Jace suspected it was when Magnus’s magic was swirling around inside of Alec’s body.

“You’re brave in your own right, Alec.”

Alec took a deep breath. “Runes always hurt a little, but… I keep expecting agony.”

Thinking about all that his parabatai endured at the hands of Jonathan made him furious, his hands balled into fists. “I wish I could kill that little shit again.”

A respectful knock on the door, and then Magnus’s head poked in. “Any progress?”

“I’ve been staring at it an hour, and no,” Alec grumbled.

Magnus came in, shutting the door. He sat beside Alec, on his left side. “Rune me.”

“What?” Alec stared in shock. “No.”

“The Alliance rune.” Magnus persisted. “Do it.”

“Mag-“

“I trust you, Alexander,” Magnus said, his voice strong, and clear. He picked up the stele, and held it out for Alec. “It will only hurt a little, as much as any rune does.”

Alec held the stele, and it still shook in his hand. “What is wrong with me?”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing, my Darling.”

“I did it before, I managed, and now-“

“It’s okay,” Magnus’s fingertips skimmed along Alec’s jaw, then around until they could tangle in his hair. “It’s okay.” Their foreheads pressed together. “Healing takes time. This will take time. It’ll get easier. You can do this, I believe in you.” He pulled back a little to look Alec in the eyes. “I believe in us.” He held out his arm, the faded lines where the Alliance rune had previously been applied.

Alec looked at Magnus, then to Jace. Jace nodded, trusting in his parabatai, even when he didn’t believe in himself.

The hand steadied as it hovered over Magnus’s skin. The lines burned into the flesh, and Alec passed the stele. Magnus held it over Alec’s forearm. “I’ve got you, my love,” Magnus whispered before brushing the lines over until the rune formed, and both of them turned black together.

Alec’s breath left in a rush. “Your magic… really packs a punch.”

Magnus grinned. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Now, stamina,” Jace pointed at it.

Alec glanced at its placement on his chest. He bit his bottom lip, and passed the stele to Jace. “You do it. It’s in an awkward place to draw on myself.”

“You sure?”

Alec reached out, entwined his fingers with Magnus’s, magic sparking blue between them. “Yeah. Do it.”

Jace drew the lines carefully, frowning at how tense Alec remained. “There.”

They all stayed perfectly still. Jace and Magnus staring at Alec. The shadowhunter glanced at his parabatai. “Jace?”

“Yeah?”

“Give,” he made a grabbing motion, and Jace passed off the stele. Alec pulled away from Magnus, and traced over one of his Angelic runes that had become scar-like.

“Nicely done,” Jace said.

Magnus’s brows pinched. “Don’t overdo it.”

Alec stared at Jace, and Jace could feel surprise, and excitement on the other end. He raised a brow in curiosity. Alec smiled. “Give me your hand.”

Jace did as requested, and then let out a yelp when Alec zapped his palm with a little magic. He jerked back and glared. “What the hell?”

“Alec!” Magnus looked worriedly between them.

“I felt it,” Alec said, staring at his own left palm. His smile grew. “I felt it!”

The crashes of excitement went both ways across the bond in loop, and Jace found himself with arms full of Alec, who hugged him tight. “Well, you don’t need a strength rune,” he said jokingly.

Alec leaned back. “Refresh the ones on my back.” He passed the stele again.

“Are you sure?” Magnus asked.

Alec smiled. “Don’t worry, Magnus, and I can feel your worry, Jace. Just… keep away from my neck, I think I’ll be fine.”

“What about your deflect rune?” Jace asked.

“I’ll… deal with it later,” Alec said. “But I think it’s the runes that are helping with the bond. Just… fix them. I-I’ll feel better with the bond solidified again. Please.” He held out his hands to Magnus, who took them. “Distract me.”

Magnus smiled, his glamour dropping, he sent magic swirling around Alec’s hands. Alec appeared quite distracted, and he didn’t even tense as Jace redrew the runes on his back, starting low and working up.

“Flexibility is close to your neck,” Jace traced it with his fingers. “Do you want me to do it, or not?” He could feel the fear in the bond, swamping him as their bond became sharper. It seemed Alec was right, their runes did play into the strengthening of the bond. “It’s okay, Alec. We don’t need to do them all now.”

“Good,” he said on a sigh. “Because… I think I need a break.”

“Okay. You did great. And you drew one on yourself,” Jace ruffled Alec’s hair. “I’m proud of you.”

Alec smiled softly, his hands comfortable in the swirling magic. “Thanks, Jace.” 


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, this story is done!? FINALLY.   
> You know what's not done? This series- more details in the note at the end of the chapter ;)

Two days after the Clave meeting, the realities started to sink in. Magnus sat on the couch on the roof, staring out at the city. He’d dealt with prejudice all his very long life. While the Warlocks were offered a fair deal in the Accords, the Seelies were not. Their former Queen had left a lasting impression on the Clave Officials. Not to mention, there were those who still sided against Áine- certainly not the majority, but enough to cause discord. Then there was the Orb, which being Seelie in origin had caused a major rift with the majority of Shadowhunters.

The Accords demanded that Seelies relinquish their weapons. Niv, whom Áine had appointed the representative of the Seelies had appeared the picture of fury. Ultimately though, it was sign, or start a war that his Queen had been trying to prevent.

The Accords were signed- and the Cold Peace began.

Magnus swirled the last of his drink. He still felt guilty over signing the Accords. They stopped war, but he couldn’t help but feel as though he’d burned the Fair Folk along the way. A foolish thing to do. He tossed back the rest of his drink, and took the glass inside with him.

He’d spoken with Alec about moving in. It hadn’t been some grand romantic gesture- which was unlike him, but it was simple, words tumbling from his lips in the early morning hours while they were tangled up in each other. It had come, as simple as breathing. Alec didn’t have many possessions, but he’d promised they’d gradually make their way to the loft.

He left the dirty glass in the kitchen sink, and walked down the hall barefoot, his pajama pants (which were actually Alec’s), dragged a little on the floor. He pushed open the bedroom door to find Alec sitting at his vanity. Shocked into stillness, he watched his boyfriend trace the Stele over the deflect rune, and watched it go from the burnt out white scar-like tissue, to red as it was being drawn, to black as the angelic power settled.

Alec took a deep breath, set the Stele down, and traced the lines with his fingertip before noticing Magnus in the mirror, their eyes connecting in the reflection. “Magnus.”

Magnus let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Alexander,” the word rolled off his tongue, pleased. “I’ve missed that rune.”

“Have you?” he raised a brow. “Why?”

Magnus’s painted fingernail trailed over the top curve of it, just below Alec’s jaw. “It’s a part of you. I’m so used to seeing it, that it was almost disorienting for it to be missing. And it accentuates this lovely neck of yours.”

His Shadowhunter looked in the mirror, studying his own reflection. Particularly, the rune.

“Something is bothering you,” Magnus said, his hands resting on Alec’s shoulders, thumbs kneading the flesh. “You can talk to me.”

“What happened at the Conclave-”

“Ah.”

“It was foolish, it should have never been left to a vote.”

“Would Consul Penhallow have made a different decision?” Magnus asked, continuing to massage Alec’s shoulders.

“Maybe. I don’t know. Everyone was so angry-“

“Everyone lost someone in that battle,” Magnus said softly.

“You think _I_ don’t know that?” Alec glared at an eyeshadow pallet. “I lost Max, but I still have the good sense to know that insulting the Seelies- especially after Lady Áine has done for us-  is idiotic. And- And then they… they just-“ his face got a little red with anger. “They even started stripping rank from half-fey Shadowhunters! They didn’t just take Helen from the Los Angeles Institute- which she should be running right now- but they took her from her family, and sent her to study wards? Mark is still at the Institute, but basically on babysitting duty with a side of grunt work. Half a dozen other Shadowhunters were also stripped of rank, some of them moved to different Institutes. It’s bullshit.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Magnus pressed against a knot, and Alec let out a rather indecent moan.

Alec practically leaned over the table, resting his forearms on it. “I will literally never move from this spot if you keep it up.”

Magnus softened his touch. “How about you get your shirt off, get into bed, and I can do this properly.

“Yeah?” he said, turning to look up at him hopefully.

Magnus kissed Alec gently. “Yes,” he whispered against his lips, reclaiming them once more. “Yes.”

It didn’t take long for Alec to strip off his shirt, and lay down on the bed. Magnus took in the look of the body he’d become well acquainted with. Alec had lost some muscle definition from his stay with Valentine, a few new scars were white lines on his body- in particular, the scar of the Agony rune on the base of his neck would never go away. The scar of that rune gave him chills.

From the bedside table, he mulled over the choices of massage oils, and went with something soft and with a touch of lavender to help the poor boy sleep. With a little bit warming between his hands, he positioned himself over Alec. “This okay?” he asked, pressing his hands into Alec’s lower back and pressing the heels of his palms upward.

Alec let out a long groan, then a content sigh. “Yeah.”

“Glad to hear it,” Magnus said. His hands worked a little higher, pressing around his shoulder blades. “Can I touch your neck?” he asked, worried about moving his hands further up without checking first.

Alec tensed, and Magnus pulled his hands away. “It’s okay,” Alec said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Magnus’s hands settled on his shoulder blades and worked up over the curve, his thumbs gently brushing over the slightly raised thin line of the Agony rune. Alec shuddered. “Did… does it hurt?” Magnus asked, freezing.

“I thought it would,” Alec admitted. “But no, it doesn’t. Kind of feels nice.”

Magnus pressed his thumbs a little harder as they completed a sweeping motion.

“I take it back,” Alec muttered, and Magnus jerked his hands back. “No, no, that’s not- I didn’t mean-“ Alec huffed out an annoyed breath. “Feels so much better than ‘nice.’”

“Oh,” Magnus smiled a little, pressing his thumbs back in, and when Alec moaned, he knew it wasn’t from pain. He worked his hands over the broad lines of Alec’s shoulders, down the curves of his body, feeling the bumps of his spine, and after a few minutes noticed the little pleased sounds had stopped. He tilted, just slightly, and saw Alec’s eyes shut, mouth agape, drooling slightly, fast asleep. Careful not to jostle his Shadowhunter, he shifted off his body, and pressed a lingering kiss to the other man’s temple. “Sweet dreams.”

And if he cast a little magic to ensure it, no one had to know.

:: ONE WEEK LATER ::

Magnus, who had just finished patching the wards at the Institute, found his boyfriend in the training center in a chokehold. As Alec gasped, and pulled on the arm, Magnus found his magic flaring, and as he was about to blindly interrupt, Alec tapped his hand against the arm that pinned him and it released. Only then did Magnus even realize it was Jace, the blond boy standing with a smug grin, before extending a hand out to help Alec up.

Alec walked over to Isabelle, whispered something, then she went to face off with Jace. The two circled around each other before Jace suddenly darted out. Isabelle ducked, grabbed his arm, and flipped him over her shoulder without letting go of the arm, her boot pressed where his arm met his shoulder, and she had his hand in a strange position. “Tap out, Jace,” she taunted.

“Never,” Jace wriggled a bit.

She wrenched his arm a bit more, and Jace shouted before patting the floor. She released him. “And that ties the score back up!”

“Nicely done, Iz,” Alec said with a proud grin on his face.

“I am your parabatai!” Jace whined, getting up to trade places with Clary.

“Yeah, but we’re on opposite teams right now,” Alec replied. “Kick her ass, Izzy!”

Clary fake pouted. “I thought we were friends.”

Alec shrugged. “Kick her ass gently?”

Isabelle laughed, and then lunged. Their match lasted for a little while. Being primarily frontline fighters Jace, Clary, and Isabelle all had a run into battle kind of mentality. Alec, being primarily a distance fighter, tended to take more time, and was less prone to giving his moves away. Isabelle dodged a punch, but Clary’s kick to the stomach knocked the air out of her, and from there it was easy to get Isabelle to the ground where Alec called it.

Only then did Alec notice Magnus. “Hey, we still have fifteen minutes of training left,” Alec said. “You want me to meet you at home?”

The way he called the loft homemade Magnus’s heart flutter. “Mind if I stay and watch?”

“Not at all. Unless you mind me kicking your ‘biscuit’s’ ass.”

“Oh, you think so, Lightwood?” Clary said.

“I know so, Fray.” Alec swapped places with Isabelle. “You have like half of my reach. We’ve been through this. You can’t beat me.”

“Enough smack-talk!” Jace said. “Begin!”

They circled, and predictably, Clary threw the first punch. Alec dodged easily enough. She tried the same move on Alec as with Isabelle, a hard kick to the center, but Alec caught her leg, gave her a patronizing grin, and wrenched the foot up, flipping her fully over, and she landed hard on the mats on her stomach. He crouched in front of her. “Better luck next time, Fray.”

She wheezed out a breath, and rolled onto her back. “I regret everything.”

“Come on,” Alec held out his hand. “You okay?”

She groaned, but took his hand. She slowly moved off the mats.

“Looks like it’s you and me,” Jace said, cracking his knuckles. “And I like my odds, considering you’ve only won one in five matches against me today.”

“Shut up,” Alec said without heat. “Let’s do this.”

They threw themselves into the fight, throwing punches, dodging kicks, grappling, and throwing each other. Magnus had yet to see a practice fight like this between the parabatai. Jace’s eyes lit up, and Magnus could make out a faint glow of one of Jace’s runes under his shirt. Alec ducked, and his eyes also lit, the two moved dodging, turning, throwing punches that never connected.

Alec let out a laugh, but threw up an arm do block the next punch. “I can sense all of your moves.”

Jace laughed. “I know, I can sense all yours. We can’t fight each other like this.”

“Well, it’s not my fault, you activated it,” Alec said.

“I don’t even know how I did it,” Jace admitted with a shrug. “Tie?”

“Tie.” The timer on Alec’s watch went off, and he turned it off. “But, since Iz tied it in her match against you, and I got us a point by beating Clary, and this last match was a tie,” Alec grabbed Isabelle’s hand and raised it up. “We are the winners! Have fun cleaning the training room.”

Jace groaned. “Damn it!”

“Enjoy,” Isabelle waved her fingers at Clary and Jace.

Alec joined Magnus at the door. “I need a shower. Mind waiting ten minutes? You can stay in my bedroom.”

“Wait for my ridiculously handsome Shadowhunter boyfriend to have a shower and potentially come out of the bathroom with just a towel?” Magnus smirked wickedly. “That doesn’t sound like a hardship in the least. Lead the way, Alexander.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all; thank you. Thank you for reading all this. Thank you for your comments. Your support is appreciated!   
> Second; If you think I'm done with this series, that's a big old 'nope.' I have at LEAST another two planned ;)   
> Third; I won't be posting for a while, because I want to have all stories finished before I begin posting. There are times with this story I went a month or more without posting, and readers were forgetting things, and hell, I was forgetting things. So, from now on, I will (try) to have the entire story written before I begin posting <3
> 
> Also- I'm going to be posting a story before the next part of this series- a soulmate AU that is still currently (and stubbornly) untitled. It's about halfway written, so I hope to start posting it before the new year (the last few months of the year are crazy busy, and I'm not even going to pretend I'm going to get things done before then. 
> 
> ALSO SEASON THREE PREMIERE DATE IS APRIL 3? I'M GONNA DIE. #readallthefanfics
> 
> So, I hope that you enjoyed this story, leave some love <3


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